
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 


UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 







LOUISA AVONDALE; 


OR, 


TWO SOUTHERN GIRLS. 


BY 




ALICE V. CAEEY. ^ 




NEW YORK: 

THE IRVING CO., PUBLISHERS. 

10 AND 13 VaNDEWATER STREET, 



7 . 





Copyright, i894. 

BY 

THE IRVING CO., PUBLISHERS. 




t 





CONTENTS 


CHAPTER I. 

The First Louisa Avondale 

PAGE. 

5 

CHAPTER II. 

The Missing Daughter 

23 

CHAPTER III. 

Louisa’s Return 

36 

CHAPTER IV. 

Robert and Paul 


CHAPTER V. 

Lady m. Adventuress 


CHAPTER VI. 

Louisa Avondale Again 

55 

CHAPTER VII. 

The Gvpsv’s Fatal Drugs 


CHAPTER VIII. 

Louisa’s Troubles Again 

72 

CHAPTER IX. 

Louisa Goes to Bellevue 

83 


iv CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER X. 

PAGE. 

The Way of the Transgressor is Hard 8T 

CHAPTER XI. 

Robert and Louisa 94 

CHAPTER XIL 

Rob’s Betrothed 101 

CHAPTER XIII. 

The Gypsy’s Revenge 110 

CHAPTER XIV. 

The Lady of Mosslands 123 

CHAPTER XV. 

The Double Wedding 126 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Louisa Meridith a Heroine 121 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Louisa Avondale and Ida Arnold 140 


LOUISA AVON-DALE. 


CHAPTEE I. 


THE FIRST LOUISA AVONDALE. 

Foe nearly a quarter of a century a family 
feud had existed between the Avondales and 
the Meridiths, but the eninit}' was about to be 
broken by a member of each family in the ever 
old yet ever new way. 

Handsome James Avondale had fallen in 
love with Louisa, the pride of the Meridith 
family. We find them on a lovely June day 
seated on a rustic bench in a remote corner of 
the Meridith plantation. The little nook was 
surrounded by beautiful trees, and the grass 
which covered the ground was like a velvety 
carpet ; such a spot seemed to liave been fitted 
out by nature to be a lover’s trysting place. 

Louisa Meridith was a tall, slender girl, with 
large, dark, lustrous eyes, and that lovely com- 
plexion which is peculiar to Southern girls. 


6 


LO VISA A YONDALE, 


James Avondale, tall, handsome and gallant, 
bent over her, a wealth of love shining from 
his d ark-brown eyes. 

‘^'Why not end this suspense at once, Louisa? 
Why do we need care about a foolish quarrel 
that happened in the long ago ? If our ances- 
tors saw fit to quarrel, there is no reason wh}^ 
we should live as enemies. Louisa, you may 
as well allow me to go to your father at once ; 
if you will only consent to have me go, 1 will 
know his decision this very morning.’' 

“I know very well, Janies, it will be of no 
avail ; he will not only refuse to give his con- 
sent, but his anger will know no bounds, for I 
have often heard that my father and yours 
were sworn enemies. I know that he will 
never consent for me to become your wife 
and pretty Louisa burst into tears. 

“Come now, Wesa, crying will not help 
matters one bit; I will go right over to ^Meri- 
dith Hall ’ with you this morning, and have an 
interview with your father ; if he refuses to 
give his consent, surely our engagement will 
not be broken. Promise me, Louisa, if he will 
not consent, that you will go over to Kichmond 
tonight and marry me; after we shall have 
been married we will go to Europe, and remain 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


7 


tnere until April, at least ; long ere that time 
your father will have forgiven you, and we 
will return to receive the parental benediction, 
and so on.” 

“ Jimmie, dear*, what air castles you are able 
to build,” said Louisa, laughing as she arose. 
“ Come along with me, papa is at home this 
morning, we may as well know his decision 
first as last. But James, dear, I have gi\'en 
you my promise, and 1 will not relent ; a Meri- 
dith never was known to break a promise.” 

“ Then you agree to the proposition which I 
have just made 1” 

“ Yes, dear, if papa refuses to give his con- 
sent, then I shall marry you against his will.” 

Together they crossed the fields to the 
grand mansion known as “ Meridith Hall.” 
One of the colored servants conducted Mr. 
Avondale to the library, where the master of 
the “ Hall ” generally spent the hours before 
noon. Louisa stood on the veranda, waiting 
for her lover to reappear and tell her the re- 
sult of the interview. 

“ Well, sir,” said Mr. Meridith, looking glar- 
ingly at the young man over the top of his gold- 
rimmed spectacles, at the same time wondering 
how young Avondale could have the presump- 


8 


LOmSA AVOI^DALE, 


tion to enter his house. What can I do for 
you 

Avondale came to the point at once : Mr. 
Meridith, I have come here this morning to 
ask for the hand of your daughter in marriage. 
I love her, and she loves me in return; not 
only that, but I have wealth, and the family 
name of Avondale can be traced back with 
honor for nearly two centuries.’’ 

“Enough,” cut in the old gentleman, “ I do 
not wish to hear you further. Let me tell you 
once for all that you, an Avondale, shall never 
be in any way connected with the family of 
Meridith.” 

Young Avondale did not lose his temper, 
but only said : “ May I ask why ?” 

“I have no right to be questioned by you, 
young man, and you will do me a favor by 
leaving my house this very minute.” 

“Very well, Mr. Meridith, I will leave your 
house, but before I do leave allow me to re- 
mind you that, ‘ all is fair in love and war.’ I 
shall have your daughter for my wife if I have 
to steal her.” 

“ That would not be at all surprising^ steal- 
ing is a trart^ peculiar to the Avondale race,” 
declared the old man. “ And if you persist in 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


D 


loitering about here, forcing your insolence upon 
me, I shall call the servants, who will oblige 
you to leave in a hurry.” 

A flash of anger crossed the young man’s 
countenance at the gross insult which the old 
man had just offered. But he stayed the angry 
words which arose to his lips, because the man 
who had so grossly insulted him was advanced 
in years, and what was more, he did not forget 
that he was talking to Louisa’s father. So in- 
stead of giving vent to angry words, which 
would only have made matters worse, young 
Avondale left the room, and the old man was 
alone to nurse his rage. 

Louisa knew, by her lover’s countenance, 
when he rejoined her on the veranda, what 
had been the result of the interview. I knew 
it, James,” she said, her large, dark eyes filling 
with tears. 

Never mind, Louisa, all will yet be well. 
Meet me in the grounds to-niorht about ten. I 
will have a carriage near at hand ; we will drive 
over to Richmond and be married. Then,!!!}^ 
pretty dear, no human power can separate us. 
Good-by, my dear, for the present.” And he 
was soon out of sight, leaving poor Louisa 
alone on the veranda, wondering if her papa 
was really very angry. 


10 


LOmSA AVONDALW. 


After Avondale left the room, old Mr. Meri- 
dith violently pulled the bell-rope. A fright- 
ened darky put in appearance. The servants 
knew full well when their master was angiy, 
by the violent way in which he would jerk the 
bells which led to their quarters. 

Where is Miss Louisa ?” 

“Dunno, massa.” 

Well, go find her, and tell her that I wish 
to see her at once. Be off in a hurry; don’t 
stand staring like an idiot.” 

The frightened representative of the African 
race took himself off in a hurry, and poor 
Louisa was soon standing tremblingly in the 
presence of her father. 

“Well, Miss Meridith, so you have been 
holding clandestine meetings with James 
Avondale, and dared allow him to come here 
and ask for 3^our hand in marriage. That was 
not all, but the young scoundrel added insult 
to injury by declaring that he would steal you 
if he could not get you in any other way. An 
honorable confession for a young gentleman 
to make. Louisa, I am grieved and shocked at 
the idea allowing this disgraceful affair 

to reach such a height as this. I refused to 
give my consent, and T forbid you to have an}"- 


LOUTS A AVONDALE. 


11 


thing more to do with James A.voiiJale. 
Louisa Meridith, you are never to become Ids 
wife.” 

‘‘ Papa ! papa !” cried the trembling girl, 
‘Mnay I ask what makes James Avondale so 
heinous in your estimation 

“ There are grave reasons, my daughter, wliy 
I should look upon his father’s son with con- 
tempt; for a quarter of a century the Avcn- 
dales and Meridiths have been enemies.” 

But, papa, the olfense was surely not so 
great as to relieve us of our obligation to for- 

o o 

give. You know, papa dear, ‘ we must forgire 
to be forgiven.’ ” 

“ Never !” thundered the old gentleman, as 
he brought his fist down with tremendous force 
upon his writing-desk. ‘‘ Never can I forgive 
a man who openly and above board acted the 
part of a rascal toward me and mine ; and now 
-for his son to commence encroachments, is 
indeed aggravating in the extreme. No 
doubt he wishes to secure more of the Meri- 
dith fortune by aspiring for your hand in 
marriage, but I shall see that not another 
penny of the Meridiths’ shall be enjoyed by an 
Avondale.” 

Why, papa, I don’t understand you ; please 


12 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


explain to me the cause of you and old Mr. 
Avondale becoming such bitter enemies.” 

“Why, girl, I thought you knew. James 
Avondale’s father obtained fifty thousand 
dollars’ worth of coal land from the Avondale 
estate by unjust means. You know, as well as 
I, that the Avondale estate joins ours, though 
‘Mosslands’ (the name of James Avondale’s 
home) is seven miles from here. There is a 
strip of land lying between the two estates 
which belonged to the Meridiths, and Avas 
always accepted as the dividing line. Little 
notice was taken of the piece of land until coal 
was discovered near here, tlie principal vein of 
which lay under the aforesaid strip of land. 
James Avondale’s father laid claim to it ; of 
course I opposed him, and Ave went to Uiaa'. 
But even in the courts of justice cases are 
often decided in favor of the Avrong part}'. It 
was so in this case, for Avondale won the suit, 
by dishonest means of course; there can be no 
question to that ; every one Avith a conscience 
kneAv that he stole that strip of land from us, 
Avhich Avas Avorth at least fifty thousand 
dollars. Think of that, and consider, my 
daughter, of the step you have taken, by prom- 
ising to link the grand old name of Meridith 


LOUISA A VOA'DALK. 


13 


with disgrace and dishonor by promising to 
become the wife of a man whose father was 
nothing more than a common thief.” 

But, papa, how can you blame James Avon- 
dale for that which is no fault of his. He is 
good and noble, papa, and no matter what can 
be said of his ancestors I love him still, and 
what is more, I have promised to become his 
wife, and I will not relent.” 

‘‘Then leave my presence, you disobedient 
girl, and remain away from me until you have 
given the matter more thought, when I am 
sure you will be ashamed of your conduct. In 
the meantime I shall order the darkies to use a 
rifle on Mr. James Avondale if he is seen 
loitering about the premises.” 

Louisa sought the solitude of her own room, 
where she spent the remaining part of the day 
almost crying herself into hysterics. She did 
not go down to luncheon at noon. Louisa Meri- 
dith was not a disobedient girl ; never before 
had she thought of going against her father’s 
will, yet there was no other alternative. He 
would not consent to have her marry the man 
of her choice, and the thought of losing her 
lover was maddening to poor Louisa. 

As soon as Louisa left the library, old Mr. 


14 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


Meridith gave the sei’vants’ bell-rope another 
violent jerk. “ Tell Mammy Chloe I wish to 
see her at once,” he proclaimed to the colored 
boy who had answered the summons. 

In less time than it takes to tell it Mamm\^ 
Chloe stood in her master’s presence. 

“Chloe,” he began, “you have been a trusty 
old servant of the Meridith family for many 
years. You were Miss Louisa’s nurse, Avere 
you not ?” 

“Yes, massa.” 

“ And of course you love her very much ?” he 
asked, scrutinizing her countenance closel}'. 

“ I do lub her, massa, de deah lioney.” 

“AVell, Mammy Chloe, you are to keep a 
close watch upon her from this time on. If 
she wishes you to mail letters for her, be sure 
to bring them to me before giving them to the 
postman. Do not carry letters to James Avon- 
dale for her under any consideration, and watcli 
carefully that she does not send them by any 
of the colored boys ; and if you see Avondale 
lurking about the premises, let me know at 
once, so as I can turn the hounds loose upon 
him. Now, are you sure that you understand 
all that I have^told you ?” 

1 “Yes, massa,” 


J.omSA AVONDALK. 


15 


Well, Chloe, I have still more for you to do. 
When Miss Louisa retires to her room to-night, 
and every night from now on until you receive 
orders from me to discontinue the practice, you 
are to lock her door from tlie outside, taking 
care to unlock it early in the morning. If she 
happens to hear you lock the door and objects 
to your doing so, tell her that you are merel}^ 
carrying out master’s orders; but you must 
tiy, if possible, to lock it without her hearing 
you.” 

Yes, massa.” 

‘‘ Now, Chloe, you may go ; but bear in mind 
that I mean for you to carry out my instruc- 
tions to the letter.” 

When Chloe entered her room late in the 
afternoon, she found her pretty, tear-stained 
face upturned, her troubles drowned in deep 
slumber. Old Chloe stood by the bedside, 
gazing lovingly down upon the sleeping girl. 
But the strange sensation which comes over us 
Avlien another is gazing fixedly upon us, causing 
us to look — a sensation which we have all more 
or less experienced — came over Louisa, an (L she 
awoke. 

Oh, Mammy Chloe, how long have I slept, 
pi-ay?” 


16 


LOUISA AVON BALK. 


“ I doesn’t know, honey ; but, bress de Lawd, 
Avhat am de cause ob dis tear-stained face? 
Youse jess been cry in’ your pretty self heart- 
sick. De pillow am all wet wid tears.” 

“ Mammy Chloe, does papa seem to be very 
angiy?” 

From de way he jerks de bell-rope he must 
be berry angrJ^” 

Oh, Mammy Chloe, I am so miserable !” 

“ La, honey, dis won’t do ! Whatever youse 
did dat am so very naughty, Ma'fesa Meridith 
will done soon forget about it. Mars llobert 
has come from de chase, and done brought a 
splendid deer dat he done shot. Xow git up 
and dress for dinner, dere’s a good honey.” 

The kind words of the old darky were sooth- 
ing to Louisa after the distressing scenes of the 
morning, 

Louisa arose and arranged her toilet before 
going down to meet her brother Robert, who 
had been gone on a hunting expedition for 
several days. Louisa was extremely glad that 
he had gotten home, because she loved him 
dearly, and did not like the idea of going away 
so far without seeing him once more. 

Little didlhouisa think that when she bade 
her brother adieu that evening that it was the 


LOUISA AVONDALW. 


17 


last time they would see each other in this 
world. But where ignorance is bliss, ’tis 
folly to be wise.” Louisa wore her prettiest 
evening-dress, and was down in time to have a 
chat with her brother before the dinner-bell 
rang. 

Kobert Meridith was glad to see his little 
sister, for he well knew that she v^as the bright 
star of their home. Louisa took care not to 
mention the event of the morning to her 
brother. She also sincerely hoped that her papa 
would not mention the affair to Bob during 
the evening — he would know all about it after 
she had gone. She wished him to remember 
the last evening they could spend together for 
many months as being a. very pleasant one. 
And it was well she did, for Kobert Meridith 
remembered his sister in all the long years 
which followed as looking more beautiful and 
gay on that particular evening than ever he 
had known her to look in all her life before. 

When old Mr. Meridith came in to dinner he 
took in at a glance that his daughter was in fine 
spirits and looking her best, and began at once 
to hope that she was already beginning to for- 
get about that which he was pleased to term, 
in his own mind, “her shattered love-dream.” 


18 


LOUISA AVONDALE, 


To Louisa’s intense surprise ber father was 
more pleasant and talkative during the evening 
than she had known him to be for some time. 
While Louisa was wondering* at the sudden 
change in her father’s demeanor, the old gen- 
tleman was secretly congratulating himself on 
his skill in governing his children. 

During the evening she delighted her father 
and brother b}^ singing many beautiful South- 
ern songs, and when she arose from before tlie 
piano she kissed them both ^ood-night at 
least a half dozen times. Little did they think 
that, instead of good-night, it meant good-by 
forever. 

^^If only dear brother Paul were here until 
I could see him once more before leaving, I 
would certainly feel more satisfied. Dear 
brother Eobert, and dear papa, he will miss me 
more than any one, but it is his own fault; he 
might just as well try to kill me as to try and 
separate me from my lover.” Such was Louisa 
Meridith’s line of thought as she mounted the 
broad staircase which led to her room. ‘‘ But 
there is no use to worry. 1 know papa will 
have forgiven me before I am halfway across 
the dark-blue sea.” 

Old Chloe formed some pretext for going to 


LOU 18 A AVONDALE. 


19 


Louisa’s room, and Louisa was very glad she 
came, for she wished to see old Chloe once 
more — the faithful old dark}^ who had taken 
care of her from infancy, Mrs. Meridith 
having died when Louisa was only three 
months old. 

Chloe managed to be closing and locking the 
door just as the great hall clock chimed the 
half hour after nine. The sound produced by 
the clock drowned the sound of the lock turn- 
ing in the door, and Louisa did not know that 
she was a prisoner. 

Louisa listened until the last sound of the 
old woman’s footsteps died away, when she 
began to make a few necessary preparations 
for the journey which was ahead of her. She 
selected a pretty dark-red costume from her 
Avardrobe, suitable for a wedding gown and 
a traveling-dress. 

Having completed her preparations, Louisa 
turned out the light, and sat down by the 
window. The Southern moon was rising above 
the horizon, and the sk}^ was alive with stars — 
not a cloud marred the beauty of the scene. 

“What a lovely night,” thought Louisa. 
“ My Avedding night is certainly a loA^ely one. 
Thank goodness, I need hawe no dismal fore- 
bodings as far as the Aveather is concerned,” 


20 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


As Louisa sat musing the clock in the hall 
struck ten. The words of her lover returned 
to her like a. flash : “ Meet me in the grounds 
about ten.” She arose and crossed the room 
without hesitation, but to her intense surprise 
the door would not yield an inch — it was 
locked, and locked from tlie outside. 

The question which presented itself to Louisa 
at once was, “How on earth came the door 
locked, and who locked it ?” She was a pris- 
oner. She returned to her place by the win- 
dow, and began to devise a plan to escape. 
Suddenly the thick vine which climbed up 
past her window, and which was reall}^ strong 
enough to bear the weight of a man, attracted 
her notice. “ Just the very thing,” thought 
liOuisa, and the old adage, “ that love laughs 
at locks and bars,” crossed her memory. 

As she sat gazing out of the window, she 
fancied she saw some one moving about among 
the shubbery across the lawn from her win- 
dow. After watching intently for several 
minutes she recognized the handsome form of 
her lover. 

“Mr. Avondale,” she called gently, fearful 
lest some one \^ithin might hear her. 

“ It is I, Louisa,” he answered, after he stood 
directly under her window. 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


“I am a prisoner in this room, James, but I 
can escape by means of this friendly vine.” 

Louisa did not wait to hear his reply, but 
threw her satchel down, and stepped without 
hesitation into the branches of the vine. Mr. 
Avondale scarcely breathed as he watched 
her make the descent, fearing every moment 
that she might be hurled to a dreadful death 
right before his eyes, but, of course, nothing 
of the kind happened. A half hour later they 
were standing in the parlor of a minister in 
the suburbs of Eichmond. The minister’s 
wife and son were called in to act as witnesses, 
and in a few minutes the woi'ds which made 
James Avondale and Louisa Meridith man and 
.vife were uttered. After receiving the con- 
gratulations of the good minister and his wife, 
Mr. and Mrs. Avondale made haste to catch 
the midnight train for New York. 

Louisa did not send any word home until 
she reached New York, when she wrote the 
following letter to her father way down at her 
old Virginia home : 

“New York City, June 2J, 1859. 

“My Darling Papa: When this letter 
reaches you I shall be far away, and I know 


22 


LOUISA AVONDALE, 


that when my own dear papa reads this he 
will forgive me— his only daughter. 

My only means of escape, when I found 
myself locked in my room, was to climb down 
the old vine which runs past my room window. 

“ Mr. Avondale awaited me in the grounds; we 
then went to the nearest minister and were mar- 
ried. After we were married we came straight 
to New York, from which place I now write. 
To-morrow morning we sail for Europe. I 
could not leave New York without sending a 
missive to the loved ones at my dear old Vir- 
ginia home. I cannot hope for an answer to 
this letter, but T shall write you as soon as we 
arriv’^e in Europe, and we shall stay long enough 
at the place from which I shall write to re- 
ceive a reply from 3^011. My best love to you, 
dear papa. Please remember me, with loving 
words, to my dear brothers, Eob and Paul. 

‘‘Now adieu, dear papa; when this letter 
reaches you I shall be far out on the dark- 
blue sea. Y"our ever loving daughter, 

“ Louisa Meridith Avondale.” 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


23 


CHAPTER II. 

THE MISSING DAUGHTER. 

On the morning after Louisa’s departure 
old Mr. Meriditli and his son Robert sat at the 
breakfast-table wondering why Louisa did not 
put in her appearance. Suddenly the elderly 
gentleman’s patience deserted him, and he or- 
dered Chloe to tell her young mistress that the 
gentlemen were patiently waiting for her to 
take her place at the head of the table. 

Chloe soon reappeared in dismay, crying and 
wringing her hands. “Oh! Mars Meridith, 
Miss W esa has done gone, she’s done ’loped, 
she has, mars. De doah was locked from de 
outside, but her bed has not been used, and 
she done ’scaped somehow ; she’s done gone, 
Massa Meridith.” 

An exciting scene followed. All the darkies 
were attracted to the dining-room by old 
Chloe’s cries. When they heard old Chloe re- 


LOUISA AVONDALE, 


24 


peating that ^^Miss Louisa was done gone,’' 
they misunderstood the meaning of the old 
darky’s words. They all thought that the fair 
young girl, who had been so kind to them all, 
was dead. Then the uproar began in earnest. 
Robert Meridith had to use almost main force 
to get the servants back to tlieir quarters, be- 
fore he could have matters exjdained to him, 
for we well know he had not heard a word of 
the happenings of the morning previous. Old 
Mr. Meridith explained all to Robert. 

“But, father,” said the young man, “why 
did you object to Louisa marrying young 
Avondale. I am sure he is wealthy and of a 
good family.” 

“ Rober.t Meridith,” thundered the old man, 
“ would you countenance the marriage of your 
beautiful sister with the son of a common 
thief, the son of a man Avho ought to have 
served a lifelong term in the penitentiary ?” 

“ 1 never heard the like said of Mr. Avondale 
before. I know, of course, that you and ho 
were by no means friendh^ As for the mone\' 
which you claim he stole from you, that was 
settled upon him by the strength of the law ; 
his son is not to blame for that. I have always 
found young Avondale to bo an honorable and 


LO UISA A VONDALK. 


'io 


courteous gentleman. He is just the type of 
manhood which I most admire. I really have 
no regrets to offer on account of his having 
Avon my beautiful sister’s love.” 

“You have queer taste in selecting a hus- 
band for your sister, Robert Meridith. By 
your decision you have only added that much 
more gall to my already bitter cup of misery 
I tliink I have one child yet— Paul. I am sure 
that when he hears of tliis most disgraceful 
affair he will consider James Avondale the 
villain that he really is. I have been failing 
in health for some time, and I know that my 
days are almost numbered. Paul shall be my 
lieir. An Avondale, or a friend of an Avon- 
tlale, shall never inherit one penny of the 
Meridith Avealth.” 

“Very well, father, that is your affair to 
settle, not mine,” said Robert as he sauntered 
from the room. 

It did not take Robert long to ascertain his 
.sister’s means of escape, and although he knew 
perfectly well that he would miss his pretty 
little sister very much, he also knew that there 
would certainly be no sense in crying and 
lamenting over spilt milk. Robert Meridith 
possessed an amiable disposition, always ready 
to make the best of everything. 


-ZG 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


In his favorite sport— hunting — Eobert for- 
got all the ills of this life. He accordingly 
prepared himself for another week’s sport with 
his friends, and as he went down the broad 
avenue which led from his home to the ])ublic 
highway, with his gun thrown across his 
shoulder, and a well-lilled knapsack on his 
back, he whistled a tune which made him 
feel the gayest of the gay, although his 
thoughts would occasionally run in unpleasant 
directions. 

“If father disinherits me, I am sure I can 
take the money left me by my mother and go 
into business somewhere. 1 am sure it will 
not break my heart because I am not destined 
to become a millionaire. And what is more, 
many an honorable young man has begun life 
in poverty ; tiiere is one thing certain, money 
cannot buy happiness. At any rate,” thought 
Rob, with a toss of his head, “ I am strong 
enough to earn ihy own living, if necessary, by 
hard work. As for Louisa, she does not need 
any more than she has, I am sure. So drive 
on, old gentleman, give your money to whom- 
soever you please.” 

Robei’t Mbridith was a proud young man. 
He had all the pride for whicli the young 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


ri 

Virginians of that time were noted. He was 
not only brave and proud, but he was most 
earnest in following the dictates of a good 
conscience, which it was his good fortune to 
possess. 

As soon as old Mr. Meridith learned that his 
son had gone on a hunting expedition he or- 
dered Shiloh, the colored boy, to ride over to 
Richmond and tell Mr. Maddox, the lawyer 
for the Meridith estate, to put in appearance 
some time during the day. 

Of course Mr. Maddox appeared on tlie scene 
in due time, and was ushered into the presence 
of the eccentric old gentleman. 

“ Mr. Maddox,” he began, “ I feel myself 
failing in health here lately, and as I am 
affected with that dreadful disease of the 
heart, which is likely to bring my life to a 
close at any moment, therefore I deem it neces- 
sary to have my worldly affairs settled at once. 
My object in sending for you to-day is concern- 
ing my will. I wish to make a new one. The 
one I made some time ago does not accord 
with m}’- wishes now. There are some changes 
to be made, and as there is danger in delay, 
they had better be made as quickly as 
practicable.” 


28 


LOUISA AVONLATM 


“Very well, sir,” said the lawyer' politely, 
“ I am at your service.” 

In a short time a new will, Avhich disinher- 
ited Kobert and Louisa, leaving Paul sole heir 
to the estate, was made. 

Mr. Maddox did not venture to question the 
old gentleman as to the cause of changing his 
will so suddenly, but was really glad when his 
business at the hall was over, for a time at 
least. 

Eobert did not return from the chase for al- 
most a week, and of course he knew nothing of 
the lawyer’s visit. He saw but little of his 
father, who avoided poor Ttob as much as possi- 
ble, having his meals in the 1 ibrary when Pobert 
happened to be at home, which was seldom. 
Kobert found life at the “Hall” very dull after 
his sister had gone. 

It was almost a week after Louisa’s depart- 
ure when Cldoe entered the library and 
handed Louisa’s letter to her master. Old Mr. 
Meridith read the letter with a lowering brow, 
then tore it to pieces and consigned it to the 
waste basket. 

“ Her promised letter from Europe shall per- 
ish in likeTHanner, if it ever reaches its desti- 
nation,” thought the irate old gentleman. 


toms A AVONDALE. 


39 


“ She need not sue for forgiveness now, after 
going intentionally against my will.” 

A half-hour later he received another letter. 
It was from Paul, his younger son, who was 
pursuing his studies at the University of 
Virginia. 

lie informed his father that in several daj's 
he would graduate with high honors. But in- 
stead of going directly home, after finishing 
his course of study, he would go to Georgia 
with a surveying partj'^, and how long the in- 
tended trip would detain him from reaching 
home he did not know. 

Paul JVIeriditli had as yet heard nothing of 
his sister’s elopement, for in those days news 
did not sin’ead as quickly as it does at tlie 
present time. So of course, as he knew noth- 
ing of the affair, nothing concerning Louisa 
was mentioned in the letter to his father. 

Mr. Meridith, however, firmly believ^ed that 
Paul had heard of his sister’s elopement, but 
had too much respect for his father to mention 
the disgraceful affair, or to allude to it in any 
way. 

Of Louisa’s letter Robert knew nothing. 
Had she written to Rob as well as her father 
she would have received an answer, and no 


30 


LQ VISA A VONnALK 


doubt affairs would have been entirely differ- 
ent in after years. 

Several days later Robert received a letter 
from his brother, which was quite a provi- 
dential happening for Robert to know his 
address. 

Mr. Meridith looked forward to his younger 
son’s arrival with man\^ pleasant anticipations, 
but alas ! it was a pleasure which was not in 
store for him. 

Mr. Meridith had for years been an early 
riser. One morning about a month after 
Louisa’s departure Ciiloe took his breakfast 
into the library, but to her great surprise he 
was not there. She went to his room door 
and rapped. On receiving no answer she 
turned the door-knob, thinking perhaps he liad 
gone down into the grounds to enjoy an early 
morning walk. 

But the door was locked, and from the inside, 
for on looking into the keyhole she could see 
the key. 

Mr. Robert was informed of the strange 
affair. IJe rapped and called, and on receiving 
no answer ordered the door to be broken in, 
and what'^ dreadful and trying moment it Avas 
for poor Rob. There lay his father, with his 


LO VISA A VON DA LE. 


31 


right arm thrown across his head, apparently 
asleep, but in reality quite dead. The master 
of ‘‘Meridith Hall” was no more. He had 
crossed the river to the great beyond some 
time during the night. 

F ather dead and Louisa gone, I know not 
Avhither ! What strange things have come 
upon us here latel}^,” thought poor Eob as he 
sank into a chair, reeling as if he were turning 
into stone. 

An inquest was held over the remains, and 
the doctors declared that James Hastings 
Meridith came to his death by an attack of 
heart disease, with which the family physician 
declared he had been troubled for years. 

Paul was summoned, and arrived at his sor- 
low-sti’icken home as quickly as possible, for in 
those daj's one could not travel as quickly nor 
as easily as now. 

Paul had not been apprised of his sistei’’s 
elopement until he reached home. 

'‘And have you no idea, or at least a clue 
of some kind, as to her whereabouts ?” asked 
Paul. 

"AEichmond paper stated that they were 
married at the residence of Eev. Mr. some 
one— I can’t remember the name— and- that 


32 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


they started for Europe as soon as the cere- 
mony was performed. As far as my knowledge 
extends, she has not written a line home since 
she left.” 

The two brothers knew that it would be 
worse than useless to attempt to find their 
sister’s whereabouts. 

On the day following Paul’s arrival, all that 
was mortal of old Mr. Meridith was kid to rest 
in the little churchyard of St. Jude beside his 
wife, who had long since been laid away in her 
last resting-place. 

It was indeed with heavy hearts that Kob 
and Paul returned to their grand old home 
after their father’s obsequies. They knew full 
well that they would find on their I’eturn no 
father to sustain them, no gentle sister to 
comfort them. 

Several days after their father’s interment, 
the two young men were seated in the library, 
when old Chloe entered and handed them 
several visiting-cards, one of which bore the 
name of Maddox, well known to them as their 
father’s lawyer. 

“ Show them into the library, Chloe,” said 
Eob. 

In a few minutes the lawyer and several 


LOUISA AVONDALE, 


33 


other gentlemen put in their appearance. 
Mr. Maddox shook hands with Kob and Paul, 
sajing: 

I hope you young gentlemen will pardon 
me for coming here before the first few days 
of mourning have passed away, but I am doing 
directly as your father ordered me to act. He 
ordered me to read his will, not later than 
three days after his funeral, to at least two of 
his cljildren, if it should be impossible for the 
other one to be present.” 

Proceed, sir,” said Eobert ; it really is 
impossible for my sister to be present to- 
day, because she is on the other side of the 
Atlantic.” 

The will was then read, and Eobert found 
himself, as well as his sister, disinherited. 

Paul was very angry at the idea of his 
brother and sister being treated so unjustly. 

Eobert was neither angry nor disappointed, 
but a little surprised at how quickly his father 
had carried out his threats. 

Ho amount of persuasion on the part of any 
one could induce Eobert to take his portion 
out of the estate. 

Paul offered his brother that portion of the 
wealth which would rightly have been his if 


34 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


there had been no will and the law had been 
left to settle the affair. He also said he would 
give his sister her share if Robert would ac- 
cept his portion. 

When Paul made the above-named proposi- 
tion Rob promptly said : “ No, brother, it shall 
be according to father’s wishes ; the wealth was 
his, and, of course, it must go as he wished it 
should. I am by no means a poor man ; I have 
the money left me by my mother. I shall 
take that and invest it in some profitable busi- 
ness. As for sister Louisa, she has the Avon- 
dale wealth. It would really be an insult to 
James Avondale to offer her portion to them. 
Take my advice, Paul, and leave matters rest 
as they now are.’’ 

“But, Robert, what is it that you intend 
doing ?” asked Paul. 

“South American coffee plantations are 
good investments just now — I think I shall try 
my luck in one of them,” said Robert. 

“Well, Robert, Louisa will live at “ Moss- 
lands ’’(the home of James Avondale), “ on her 
return. I can get a large sum of money for 
‘ MeridittrPIall ; ’ what do you think of my sell- 
ing it, and accompanying you to South 
America ?” 


LOtirSA AVON h ALE. 36 

I am perfectly satisfied, brother; it seems 
to me that if we can be near each other that 
everything will go on better for us.” 

“ Yery well, then,” said Paul, I shall go, 
and what is more we shall not delay, but just 
as soon as we can settle up affairs here we will 
.start for South America. No doubt before 
that time we will hear something of Louisa.” 

But no word fiwn her, whom the}^ both 
loved so well, reached them during the remain- 
ing time they were in Virginia. 

Lovely Meridith Hall” was soon in the 
hands of strangers, and Eobert and Paul on 
their way to a distant land. 

Before leaving, Kob and Paul told the good 
people who'had bought their home to keep in 
their possession all letters that came addressed 
to the Meridiths, and to give them t6 Mrs. 
Avondale when she returned to “ Mosslands.” 


36 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


CHAPTER IIL 

LOUISA^’s RETURN. 

Louisa wrote many letters to those who were 
near and dear to her at her old Virginia home. 
Of course she received no answer. She con- 
cluded at last that they were all angry with 
her. Pride came to her rescue — she would not 
write another line to them as long as they were 
determined to be so unforgiving. . 

Louisa and Mr. Avondale traveled through 
England, Germany, France and Spain during 
the first six months the}^ had spent abroad, and 
now they were spending Christmas tide, the 
time of year dear to all Christians, in 

“ The land where orange blossoms bloom, 

And oranges like gold in leafy gloom,” 

lovely Italy. 

Louisa was delighted with Naples, and as she 
was by this time heartily tired with travel, 


LOtriSA AVONDALE. 


3 ? 


determined to spend several months in the 
quaint old city. 

The last of March found our tourists on their 
way to Havana, Cuba. They had visited 
Genoa, the birthplace of Columbus, so on their 
homeward journey they determined to see his 
last resting place. 

On the first night of her stay in Havana she 
had a strange dream. She fancied she Avas 
back at her dear old A^irginia home, that as she 
stood on the veranda she saw her father reel 
and fall like a drunken man as he walked down 
the broad avenue or drive, which led from the 

Hall ” to the public road. She saw the serv- 
ants standing about in groups, crying and wail- 
ing, while her two brothers bent over him weep- 
ing bitterly. 

On awaking she made up her mind to know 
something from home before leaving IlaAmna. 
She would write to her father’s lawyer, Mr. 
Maddox. AVhy had she not thought of him 
before ! He could at least inform her whether 
or not her father and brothers were well. 

Louisa Avondale feverishly awaited the 
lawyer’s reply. 

Ml’. Maddox was much surprised when he 
received the letter, and lost no time in giving 
her the desired information. 


38 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


' A letter for maclame,'’ said a little Spanish 
servant with a bow, as she entered the break- 
fast-room one morning, where Mr. and Mrs. 
Avondale were enjoying a cup of chocolate. 

Louisa’s heart gave a great bound of joy as 
she recognized the writing of her father’s 
lawj^er. She hastily tore tlie letter open, 
little dreaming of the dreadful news which it 
contained. 


Kiciimond, Va., Marcli 10, 1800. 

Esteemed Madame : Deep indeed was my 
agitation as I perused the contents of your 
letter. 

“ I thought surely that you had been ap- 
prised, long ere now, of the great change which 
has been effected at your old home. 

‘‘One morning, about six weeks after your 
departure, your father was found dead in bed, 
having died some time during the night. 

“ The physicians declare he died of heart 
disease, Avith which he had been troubled for 
many years. 

“ The entire estate was left to your bix)ther 
Paul, who sold all the property, viz., the 
Meridith plantation, and A^our two brothers are 
noAv in Soufh America. 

“ As I liave no correspondence Avith them, I 
cannot giA^e you their address. 

“ Yours very respectfully, 

“ Arthur Maddox.” 


L0U18A AVONDALE. 


39 


‘‘Oh, God, how dreadful!” moaned the 
grief-stricken lady, as she handed the letter to 
Mr. Avondale. 

From the very hour in which she received 
the lawyer’s letter Louisa Avondale was a dif- 
ferent woman. 

She drooped like a broken lily, the roses left 
her pretty cheeks, and in their stead a hectic 
flush occasionally came and went. Poor ilr. 
Avondale soon saw his lovely ^'’oung wife in 
the hands of that dreadful monster, hasty 
consumption. 

Mr. Avondale lost no time in resuming their 
journey homeward after they had received 
the letter which bore them such sorrowful 
news. 

They arrived at lovely “ Mosslands” about 
the middle of April, at which time of the year 
all nature in the valley of Virginia begins to 
put on a spring-time garb of beaut3^ 

The meadows at “ Mosslands ” were covered 
with flowers— pretty little wild flowers — while 
the lawn and flower gardens about “Moss- 
lands” were most beautiful, yet poor Louisa 
was not able to take either pride or pleasure in 
any of the luxuries or beauties by which she 
was surrounded. 


40 


L0m8A AVONDALE. 


Mr. Avondale offered to take her for a drive 
over to “ Meridith Hall,” but she declared 
that the sight of her dear old home, in the 
hands of strangers, would break her heart 
entirely. 

Rob and Paul had not allowed Chloe to bo 
sold with the rest of the slaves, but bade her 
go to Miss Louisa — as she still persisted in 
calling her — when she returned to “ Moss- 
lands.” 

One morning, shortly after Louisa’s return, 
she was delighted to see old Chloe coming up 
the drive, and when Louisa learned that the 
old darky had come to stay she almost cried 
for joy. 

One morning in June, two months after their 
return, a little dark-eyed stranger lay in the 
cradle at Mosslands.’’ 

But the young and beautiful mother of that 
strange little bundle of humanity lay stiff and 
cold in death. 

Poor Mr. Avondale was almost wild at the 
loss of his lovely wife. His only source of 
comfort was the little baby girl who, Chloe de- 
clared, “ was de libing image of Miss Wesa, 
when she was an infant of de same size.” 

The little girl was at once named Louisa 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


41 


Meridith Avondale. Chloe at once assumed 
charge of the little stranger, whom we shall 
know from now on as Louisa Avondale. 

Mrs. Avondale was also laid to rest in the 
little churchyard of St. Jude, beside her father 
and mother. A great many of her ancestors 
were buried there, it having been the family 
burying-ground of the Meridiths and Avon- 
dales for many, many years. 


42 


LOVISA AVONDAM. 


CHAPTER IV. 

ROBKRT AND I’AUL. 

Robert and Paul Meridith read an account 
of tlieir sister’s death in a Ricliraojid paper, 
wliich stated that she had died of liasty con- 
su nption. They, of course, concluded that she 
had died childless, and thinking that Mr. 
Avondale would soon forget their sister and 
marry again, they did not think it necessary 
to commence a correspondence with him. 

Robert and Paul took their sister’s death 
greatlj'’ to heart, for they loved her dearly. 
They considered that her death broke the last 
loving tie which bound them to their native 
land, and they almost resolved never to return 
to the United States again. 

The Meridith boj’s were very successful in 
their South American investments : their coffee 
crops yielded them splendid profits ; a gold 
mine was discovered under Robert’s planta- 
- tion, which made him the richest man in the 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


43 


regions. His wealth caused him to be much 
sought after by the French and English fami- 
lies who lived in the neighborhood, especially 
those who had marriageable daughters, but 
Robert had fully resolved to become a bachelor. 

Paul, on the other hand, had long since 
wooed and wedded a Spanish maiden° whose 
eyes were as dark as night, and whom Paul 
always declared reminded him of his dear 
sister Louisa. 

Dark-eyed children soon blessed the home of 
Paul. There were Rob and Paul, Jr., aged 
four, little Louisa and baby Virginia, whom 
Paul had named in memory of his native state. 

As the children grew older they, as well as 
their mother, loved to listen to their father 
and uncle talk of their native land, life in 
Brazil being quite different from life in the 
United States. 

The children loved Uncle Robert, he was so 
good and kind, and brought them so many' 
curious things when he would return from the 
West Indies, where his business affairs often 
called him. 

Little Robert, who was the namesake of 
Rob, Sr., was about old enough to begin to 
have the spirit of adventure j he often ex- 


44 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


pressed a wish to go to Cuba. One evening 
he electrified the company by telling them 
that ‘‘^he had a gieat mind to make a visit to 
Cuba himself, if no one would go with him, 
and you may bet when I become a man I shall 
pay a visit to ‘Meridith Hall,’ Avay up in 
Yirginia.” 

“Bravo,” said Uncle Eobert, “that is the 
way 1 like to hear a lad of twelv^e 3^ears talk. 
I go to Havana next week, and I shall take 
you along. Ifo, Paul, you need not look dis- 
appointed, 3^ou are to go also ; do you think 
Uncle Eobert would slight you in a matter of 
this kind ?” 

To sa}" that the youngsters enjo^^ed their 
trip to Havana would be putting it in a mild 
sort of a wa3\ The\^ were delighted with the 
voyage, delighted with the cit}^ of Havana, 
Avhich was the first city the}^ had ever visited. 
Their trip was perfectl}^ delightful, returning 
to Brazil with many little mementoes of their 
visit to the quaint old city. 

Uncle Eob took care not to allow the bo^^s 
to forget their mother and little sisters while 
the}^ were away. He had them purchase 
man\^ littfe-^presents for them, such presents 
as delight the hearts of women and little girls. 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


46 


Louisa Meridith was named in memory of 
her aunt Louisa, but she greatly resembled her 
grandma Meridith, avhile little Virginia avas 
the living image of her aunt Louisa. The 
same caused her to be a great favorite of uncle 
Rob’s, who fairly deluged her with presents 
whenever he returned from a visit to the West 
Indies. 


46 


LOUISA AVONDALK. 


CHAPTER V. 

LADY VS. ADVENTURESS. 

Along the coast at Cape May, old Haidee, 
the gypsy hag, was calling to every one who 
passed her : “ Good fortunes to tell ; good for- 
tunes to tell ; only hear the future, kind lady.” 

She had been singing and calling out the 
above-named words until her throat became 
sore, yet no one heeded her. She resolved to 
try another plan. 

As Banker Stewart’s haughty wife and 
pretty daughter passed along the promenade, 
Haidee completely barred the way. “ Have 
your fortune read, dear lady,” she said, ad- 
dressing Miss Stewart ; “ it will only cost 
you a silver dollar, lady; a nice fortune is 
yours, my dear ; let old Haidee read the lines 
in the palm of your hand.” 

Ida Stewart only laughed and Avas about to 
pass on, Avhen the old gypsy arrested her at- 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


47 


tention still further by offering her two little 
round balls about the size and shape of peas, 
one being pink and the other white. She told 
Miss Stewart that she would give them to her 
for nothing, but that she would expect her 
reward after the curious little balls performed 
the work which she promised of them. 

As Haidee did not ask her to pay for them 
Ida Stewart took the balls to get rid of the 
gypsy’s nonsense. Haidee explained to her 
that the pink one would gain for her the love 
of any man to whom she could administer it 
unawares, but if the victim should happen to 
know, or in any way detect, the cause of her 
influence over him, that the charm would be 
broken ; but as long as the secret could be kept 
the love produced would be long and lasting, 
making the victim perfectl}^ subservient to her 
will. 

The white ball would produce death in such 
a manner that the best physicians in the land 
would declare that death was caused by heart 
disease. 

But mind you,” said the gypsy, if ever 
you use the balls successfully I shall know of 
it. no matter if I happen to be in Africa at the 
time you use them, then I sliall be on hand to 
claim my reward.” 


48 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


Ida placed the little balls in her purse, think- 
ing she would never use them, and, after toss- 
ing the gypsy a quarter, moved on with the 
great mass of human beings who daily prome- 
naded along the beach at Cape May. 

Ida Stewart never dreamed of using ITaidee's 
drugs, but the wily gypsy gave a low, mocking 
laugh, not pleasant to listen to, when Ida was 
past hearing distance. The old gypsy knew 
that a young girl, and most especially a young 
girl Avho moved in fashionable society, had 
many lovers, and just as many rivals. She 
knew well who the girl was who had the little 
balls — the only daughter of a Philadelphia mil- 
lionaire, Banker Stewart’s daughter, and only 
child. Haidee resolved to keep an eye on her 
movements, and we shall see later on how she 
carried out that resolve. 

It is the latter part of July. The Phila- 
delphia papers are filled with the account of 
the approaching marriage of Banker Stewart’s 
daughter to Count Du Varri, of France, a most 
excellent gentleman. The marriage could not 
be put off until September and October, the 
fashionable months for weddings, on account 
of the prospective groom having to return to 
his estates in France as quickly as possible. 


LOUISA AVONDALB.] 


49 


Dame Kiimor had it that he loved Miss 
Stewart devotedly, and that when she would 
become Countess Du Varri she would be most 
happy. 

At last the long-looked-for morning Avas at 
hand. The gay four hundred were present to 
witness the ceremony and attend the reception. 
The ceremony was soon performed, and Ida 
Stewart became Countess Du Yarri. At the 
gay reception which followed no one noticed 
the troubled look and ashen pallor which 
Avould at times cross Banker Stewart’s face. 
No, he Avould not allow any one present to 
know b}'^ word or sign that he was bankrupt. 

During the few weeks which his wife and 
daughter had spent at Cape Ma}^ he had spent 
upon them what might have been called a 
small fortune; but what did that matter, since 
his beautiful daughter, who he felt sure could 
not endure poverty — she who had been lolled 
in the lap of luxuiy all her lifetime. So what 
mattered it about the money spent at Cape 
May, since she had made such a good catch. 
Before the news of the bank failure will have 
been made known ray beautiful daughter shall 
have already been a pretty good distance out 
at sea, and no doubt before she pays a visit to 


60 


Louisa avondalk. 


America I shall have been able to redeem my- 
self, and his honor, the count, will never know 
of the failure. Such was the banker’s line of 
thought as he stood in the grand old parlor 
among his guests. 

While the countess was in her room donninc 
her traveling-costume the count was enjoying 
a walk up and down the street in front of the 
Stewart mansion, when a newsbo}' stepped up 
to him, exclaiming : 

“ Paper, sir ! — containing a full account of 
the great Stewart bank failure !” 

The count was almost thunderstruck. He 
bought a paper and read for himself an ac- 
count of his father-in-law’s failure. He wrote 
a note and gave the newsboy a dime to deliver 
it to the Countess Du Vari'i. The count then 
hurried to a shop, procured a disguise, and in 
a few hours’ time was landed safe in Jensey 
City. 

Meantime the countess had descended to the 
parlor, was seated on a divan chatting pleas- 
antly with her fashionable friends and awaiting 
the count’s return, thinking of course that he 
had also gpne to his rooms to don his traveling- 
suit. 

As the time rolled rapidly round, and the 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


51 


count Tailed to put in an appearanpe, old Mr. 
Stewart began to get uneasy, and was just 
about to go in search of bis missing son-in-law 
when the servant handed the countess a note. 
She read the note and fell in an unconscious 
heap upon the floor. Mr. Stewart then knew 
that something serious must have happened to 
the groom, and picked up the note, which read 
as follovvs : 

“ To THK Countess Du Vakri : No doubt you 
have heard ere this of your father’s failure. 
Excuse me for being plain when I tell you that 
3’ou are not a countess at all. I am no more a 
count than the newsboy who brings you this 
note. I married you for your money. Now 
that you are penniless I see fit to desert you. 
A wealthy wife would be bother enoug'h, I 
imagine, and a poor one 'would be a much 
greater nuisance. So now farewell, my dear 
countess. I wish you bon voyage on your 
wedding tour. Please remember me as your 
earnest admirer. 

“Count Du Vaeri.” 

Great beads of perspiration covered old Mr. 
Stewart’s face as he read the note, then a 
deathlike pallor overspread his face, and he 
fell heavily to the floor. 

As Ida was recovering from the deep swoon 


52 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


into which she bad fallen, she could hear her 
mother calling piteously to her that her 
papa was dying. Servants Avere running 
hither and thither with restoratives, but ere a 
physician arrived old Mr. Stewart Avas dead ; 
death being caused by undue mental excite- 
ment, and an already overtaxed nervous 
system. 

Hardly had old Mr. Stewart been laid away 
in the tomb Avhen his creditors took possession 
of the costly household furniture, and all the 
property which Mr. Stewart owned, turning 
Ida and Mrs. Stewart into the street Avithout 
money or shelter, and finding themselves at 
once deserted by their fashionable friends, 
they, Avho had been reared in luxury all 
their lives, were obliged to come down to tene- 
ment life. 

‘‘ Mother,’’ said Ida, we must look for em- 
ployment of some kind ; we can’t sit way up 
here in this rickety old building and starve ; 
Ave can’t, indeed.” 

Suiting the action to the Avords, Ida arrayed 
herself in a cheap mourning-dress, covering her 
face Avith a^hick black A^eil, and went out to 
seek employment. As she hurried along, she 
met many friends of happier days, but not 


LO UI8A A VONDALE. 


53 


one of theinr recognized in the plain, dark-robed 
figure the lovely and accomplished daughter 
of Banker Stewart. 

Ida went front one place of business to 
another, receiving the same dismal reply where- 
ever she tvent, viz., no more emplo3mes needed. 
As a last resource before retracing her steps 
homeward she purchased a newspaper, hoping 
to find something worth while in the want col- 
umn, but she Avas too tired and heartsick to 
look at the paper before going home. 

On arriving home Ida scanned the want 
column until she came to the following lines : 

“Wanted. — Two ladies who can speak 
French fluently, and are proficient in music 
and the usual English branches, to act as gov- 
ernesses for a little boy and girl. No references 
required. Address Fairlawn, Co., Va.” 

“ Mother, that is the very thing for us ; we 
can speak French fluently. I was only twelve 
when papa took you and I to France, yet I 
remember the>ways of the French people as 
distinctly as if I Avere amongthem, only yester- 
day. And as for music, I can manage that. I 
shall apply for the place at once, mother. 
There is no harm in trying for it, you know. 


54 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


We caa use an assumed name, some name that 
will sound very Frencby — Trillcott, for in- 
stance. Now I really think that Madame and 
Mademoiselle Trillcott will sound very well.” 

“ What a head you have for plotting,” said 
Mrs. Stewart. “ Do as you wish about answer- 
ing it, my daughter.” 

Ida lost no time in applying for the place. 
Fortune favored her. In several days she re- 
ceived a letter from Fairlawn, which stated 
that Mr. and Mrs. Montague would be pleased 
to have Madame and Mademoiselle Trillcott 
commence their teaching at Fairlawn by the 
first of the month. 

It is needless to say that the letter brought 
joy to the hearts of Ida and Mrs. Stewart, both 
being anxious to leave Philadelphia, and the 
scenes of their former happy days, far in the 
background. 


LOUISA A VONDALM. 


65 


CHAPTER VI, 

XOUISA AVONDALE AGAIN. 

Thirteen years hav’e come and gone since 
Mrs. Avondale’s death. James Avondale and 
his daughter still reside at “Mosslands.” 

Little Louisa has grown to be the living 
image of her mother. She had her mother’s 
gentle wa,ys, her mother s voice, her mother’s 
looks. On account of the great resemblance 
which she bore to her mother, J'ames Avondale 
loved to gaze upon his lovely little daughter, 
for she brought back to him sweet memories 
of bygone days. 

He was loath to give up his pretty com- 
panion, but the time had arrived when she 
would be obliged to go away to school. She 
who was to be, in a few years, the pride of 

Mosslands” must necessarily be a cultured 
lady Mr. Avondale concluded to give her a 
four years’ course at Madame Chelsea’s school, 
in the suburbs of New York City. 


56 


LOUISA AVOKDALB, 


One evening, as Mr. Avondale sat in his 
sumptuous parlor, the sound of merry children’s 
voices coming from the lawn attracted his at- 
tention. On looking out he saw his daughter 
and Helen and Edgar Montague at play. The 
Montagues had been Mr. Avondale’s neighbors 
for years and years. Helen, Edgar and Louisa 
had been lifelong friends. The children were 
near enough for Mr. Avondale to hear their 
conversation. 

I say, Louisa,” said Edgar, ‘‘ our governesses 
are coming next week; we shall commence our 
studies the first of September.” 

‘‘ Yes, two ladies are going to teach us,” put 
in Helen. 

‘‘ Who is going to teach you?” asked Edgar 
of Louisa. 

“ I don’t know, I am sure. Papa has not 
mentioned anything of the matter to me, and 
I don’t wish him to get a stranger here to teach 
me. I would rather have my papa teach me 
than any one else in this world. What are your 
teachers’ names ?” 

“ Madame and Mademoiselle Marea Trill- 
cott,” said P^gar. 

“ That is a queer name,” said Louisa. 

“ Not so very queer, Louisa,” said Helen. 


LO UISA A YON DALE. 57 

It is a French name, and they are real French 
ladies. For that reason papa engaged them as 
soon as they applied for the position ; you know 
papa is of French descent.’’ 

‘‘ Yes,” said Edgar, “ but I’ll bet neither of 
you know the meaning of the word Montague.” 

‘^No, Edgar, do tell us.” 

'‘Mont in French means mountain, Tague 
means high,” explained Edgar. “Papa told 
me the meaning of our name the other day, so 
you see Montague means high mountain. Now 
Louisa, don’t Mr. Edgar and Miss Helen High 
Mountain sound fine?” Both girls laughed at 
Edgar’s drollery. 

“ I say, Louisa,” went on Edgar, “ I am 
nearly fifteen years old, quite old enough to go 
to college, instead of having ladies teaching 
me, no matter how Frenchy and smart they 
consider themselves. But let me tell you that 
I just mean to tease the life out of the two 
Frenchies during school hours, so as they will 
hand me over to papa, who will of course send 
me to college.” 

“ Brother Edgar,” said Helen, abashed, “ how 
can you talk in such a manner?” 

At his sister’s reproval he began to whistle 
“ Way down in Dixie Land,” at which juncture 


68 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


Thomas Jefferson came down the drive in the 
phaeton, and the two Montagues were soon on 
their way to “ Fairlawn.” 

After .they had gone Louisa at once sought 
her father to ascertain whether or not she 
would have a governess. 

“ Well, ray little daughter, I have decided to 
send you to a good school, where you will 
remain until your education will have been com- 
pleted. The name of the school is ‘ Chelsea 
Place,’ and is conducted by a most excellent 
lady, Madame Chelsea.” 

“ But, papa, I do not wish to leave you and 
my dear old home. I am sure I can learn 
enough hei’e, by having you teach me.” 

“ No, my daughter, when you reach a certain 
age you will enter societj^, and of course eveiy 
one will expect the lady of ‘ Mosslands’ to be 
highly cultured.” 

“ But, papa, Helen and Edgar are to have a 
govei’ness over at ‘ Fairlawn,’ could I not study 
and recite with them ?” 

“No, my little daughter, I have already 
made all arrangements with Madame Chelsea. 
She expects you the first week in September. 
You will enjoy your school life very much, my 
dear, I know you will. The institution is along 


LOUISA AVONDALE, 


69 


the Hudson, in the suhurbs of the greatest city 
in the United States.” 

Oh ! papa, that is so far away. How long 
will I have to remain at Chelsea ?” 

Four years, my daughter. You are thirteen 
now ; by the time you will have linished your 
course of study you will be just the proper 
age to make your debut.” 

A look of despair crossed Louisa’s face. 
Four years seemed an endless length of time to 
her. 

Well, papa, as it is your wish of course I 
shall have to go, but it almost breaks my heai't 
to think that in all that time I will not see mj 
own dear papa, nor my lovely home.” 

“ Oh ! little one, I shall visit you at least 
twice a year, and as for Mosslands, it has stood 
for almost a century, surely it will stand four 
years longer.” 

This seemed to comfort her somewhat, and 
no more was said on the subject, for just then 
the supper-bell rang, and they repaired to the 
dining-room to enjoy a well-spread and dainty 
meal. 

Come, daughter,” said Mr. Avondale, late 
in the evening, “ sing to me a lot of good old 
Southern songs. When you are at ‘ Chelsea 


60 


LOUISA A VONDALE. 


Place’ I wish you to pay particular atten- 
tion to your music. You have inherited your 
mother’s splendid voice, and also her talent for 
music.” 

Louisa complied with her father’s request. 
One grand old Southern song after another 
rang out upon the still evening air. She sang 
until Chloe claimed that it was time for Miss 
Wesa to retire, “j You know, honey, dat you 
must not lose beauty sleep.” 

Next morning bright and early Louisa rode 
over to “ Fairlawn” to tell Helen and Edgar 
that she was to go away so soon. Edgar, who 
was filled with the spirit of adventure peculiar 
to boys of his age, thought it a capital idea to 
have a chance to see New Yoi*k. Helen 
took the matter quite differently, and indulged 
in a good cry at the idea of losing her lifelong 
friend. 

“ Our governesses will arrive the first of next 
week. I am glad you will see them before you 
go away, Louisa,” said Helen. 

“ So am I. Now, Helen, I hope you will get 
on famously^' with your studies. I am sure if 
you are obedient, and do your duty toward 
your teachers, that all will be well.” 

Thus the two girls consoled each other as 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


61 - 


well as they could. The next time Louisa 
visited “ Fairlawn ” the teachers had arrived. 
Siie at once took a great liking to raadame, 
but took a dislike to Marea as soon as they 
met. 

“Come with me to my room, Louisa, I wish 
to ask you something,” said Helen. 

“ Now,” said Helen, after they had reached 
the room and closed the door,. “do you know 
what 1 wish to ask you ? Of course you don’t 
know, but it is this : tell me honestly, do you 
like our teachers ?” 

“Well, Helen, I have fallen in love with 
madame, but 1 do not like her daughter, 
though I ought to be ashamed to say that I do 
not like her, as she is an utter stranger to me, 
and to all of us.” 

“Brother does not like mademoiselle either ; 
I am afraid she will have trouble with him.” 

“ I hope not,” said Louisa. “ Now, Helen, 
I mean to give you a little charge while I am 
away : I want you to take care of my little 
pony, to use as your own, until I return.” 

“ Oh ! Louisa, I shall certainly take great 
care of little Black Bess.” 

“Thank 3 'ou, my own dear Helen,” said 
Louisa, as she kissed her friend. “Now don’t 


63 


tOtilSiA AVON!) ALU. 


forget to give Bess a lump of sugar every 
time you return from having a ride.” 

“I shall attend to that, my dearie, never 
fear,” said Helen. 

It was a distance of four miles from “Fair- 
lawn ” to “ Mosslands,” over a beautiful level 
country road. In after years Louisa looked 
back upon those rides and drives, to and fro 
from “Fairlawn,” as some of the happiest 
hours of her childhood da^'s. 

The home of Louisa’s mother was seven 
miles from “ Mosslands.” She had often ex- 
pressed a wish to see “ Meriditli Hall,” but Mr. 
Avondale always shrunk from the idea of 
going there, on account of the sad memories 
which such a visit would naturally revive. 
But now as Louisa was going so far away, 
Mr. Avondale made up his mind to take 
Louisa over to the Hall. 

Thomas Jefferson was ordered to get ready 
the family carry-all, and the little party, con- 
sisting of Chloe and Thomas Jefferson, Mr. 
Avondale and Louisa, drove over to the Hall. 
Chloe was delighted at having a chance to visit 
“ de ole ^ntation once more, where she had 
been born an’ raised.” 

Mr. Avondale could scarcely repress his 


LOUISA AVON DAL K. 


63 


emotion when the turrets and towers of “ Mevi- 
dith Hall ” loomed into sight, this being the 
first sight he had had of the place since the night 
on which he had stolen his lovely bride. The 
good people who owned the Hall allowed the 
little party to go through the mansion at will. 
Chloe declared that everything appeared the 
same as the day on which she “ left de deah 
ole place.” The people who bought the Hall 
purchased the furniture also, and were content 
to allow everythihg about the house to remain 
tlie same as when the Meridiths lived there. 

Mr. Avondale had never allowed his daughter 
to know that she had two uncles in existence. 
Old Chloe had also been cautioned not to 
mention their names to Louisa. The pictures 
of Kobert and Paul hung in the parlor at “ Meri- 
dith Hall.” When Louisa asked Chloe whose 
portraits they were she was obliged to say that 
she did not know. 

The reason Mr. Avondale left Louisa in 
ignorance to that effect Avas because Eob and 
Paul had never written to him since their 
sister’s death, which of course led Mr. Avon- 
dale to suppose that they wished to keep up the 
family feud; therefore Mr. Avondale thought 
it proper never to make mention of their 


64 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


existence to Louisa. Had James Avondale 
only known that they knew not of little 
Louisa’s existence, no more than she knew of 
theirs, affairs might have proceeded quite 
differently. 

The little company returned to “ Mosslands ” 
highly pleased with their visit to the Hall. 
Helen listened with deep interest to Louisa’s 
description of her mother's home, hoping that 
some day that she too might visit “ Meridith 
Place.” 

At last the day arrived for Louisa to leave 
^‘Mosslands.” Helen and Edgar were over 
early in the morning to bid Louisa good-by. 
The two girls parted fi*om each other with 
many bitter tears. 

On arriving at Chelsea, madame was so kind 
that Louisa at once conceived a great liking 
for her, and after she heard Louisa sing she 
informed Mr. Avondale that mademoiselle had 
a wonderfully sweet voice. This bit of intelli- 
gence was quite pleasing to Mr. Avondale, who 
returned to Virginia thinking of the bright 
young girl who would return to grace his 
home foiir^years hence. 

Three years passed rapidly away, during 
which time Louisa learned to love Madame 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


65 


Chelsea, and Chelsea Place school. Teachers 
and scholars alike loved the impulsive and 
warm-hearted young Southern girl. As for her 
studies, madame declared that the progress 
which she made, and most especially with her 
music, was simply marvelous. “ Mademoiselle 
has a soul for music,” the French teacher would 
say. 



i . ■ <1 



66 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


CHAPTEE VIL 

THE gypsy’s fatal DRUGS. 

School matters at Fairlawn ” had not pro* 
grossed so well; Edgar had been declared un- 
manageable the second \"ear after the Trillcotts 
took charge, and had been sent to college. 
Mademoiselle declared she had never met such 
an unruly boy. Helen did not like her 
teachers, on the strength of which she gave 
them no end of trouble. Madame and her 
daughter were almost in despair. Helen was 
becoming more unmanageable every diiy, and 
if they would be obliged to give her up, what 
then would they do for a livelihood ? 

Mamma,” said Marea, ‘‘do you remember 
the little pink and white balls which the gypsy 
gave me on the beach at Cape May ?” 

“Yes,_. daughter, I remember something of 
them,” said Madame Trillcott. 

“ Well, mamma, I am tired of poverty; I 
'^lieve I would far more rather be dead and 


LOUISA A VON DALE. 


67 


in my grave than have this sort of thin^ con- 
tinue much longer. I. have made up my mind 
to use the balls ; there can be no harm in try- 
ing them at least.” 

“ On whom, pray,” asked Mrs. Trillcott. 

“ I mean to give the pink one to Mr. Avon- 
dale. If I can manage to give it to him we 
shall be all right, mamma ; no more poverty 
for mo. The old gypsy said that the love 
Avhich the pink ball can produce will be last- 
ing, and that the victim would become in time 
perfectly subservient to the'will of the person 
who administered it. If the plan works well, 
and he is completely in my power,'I shall have 
him make his will entirely in my favor. Of 
course, you know what I mean, mamma — after 
everything is arranged to my satisfaction, I 
shall give him the Avhite ball, Avhich will end 
his career in short order, while all the physi- 
cians in Richmond will stupidly declare that 
his death Avas caused b\' heart disease.” 

“But, Marea, old Haidee told you that no 
matter if she happened to be in Africa when 
you used them, that she would knoAV of it, and 
that she would claim her reward.” 

“Nonsense, mothei’, how can you believe 
such rubbish !” 


68 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


Madame Trillcott could not alter her daugh- 
ter’s. determination. 

“ You know, mother, he is at Chelsea, visit- 
ing his daughter just now. When he returns 
I shall wait for an opportunity to put the first 
of my plan in execution.” 

Marea Trillcott did not have long to wait, 
for the first place Mr. Avondale visited on his 
return was Fairlawn. He had half a dozen 
messages for Helen and as many presents for 
her, tokens from his daughter to her friend. 

It was Saturday morning when Marea saw 
him coming, and as she was not teaching, she 
ran to a little cupboard in her room, filled a 
glass witli wine, into which she dropped the 
little pink ball, which, to her intense satisfac- 
tion, instantly melted away. She was down 
in the hall by the time Mr. Avondale entered. 

Oh ! Mr. Avondale, so glad to see you,” 
she said, feigning surprise. I thought you 
were up in New York.” 

“ I came home yesterday,” said Mr. Avon- 
dale. 

‘‘ I hud^ome rare old wine upstairs, which I 
brought from Fi‘ance four years ago, and see- 
ing that poor old daiky out thei’e looking so 
weary, 1 was just about to take him a sip. 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


69 


Now, monsieur, I beg of you to take it ; you 
also look dejected, and this is such rare wine 
1 know it will do you much good.” 

“ It certainly was kind and thoughtful of 
you. Miss Trillcott, to think of giving the old 
darky a drink of wine. As you say it is such 
rare wine, I liave no objection to offer against 
drinking some of it, if for nothing else but to 
please you.” 

As Marea watched him swallow the contents 
of the glass, she thought triumphantly to herself 
that he would do more than drink a glass of 
Avine to please her before he avouUI end his 
career. Marea then procured another glass of 
wine for the old darky, who wondered what 
on earth had come over the proud lady to think 
of his ever being fatigued. Marea then flew 
to her mother’s room and told her what she 
had done. 

“ Marea, I fear, if the dose should prove suc- 
cessful, that old Haidee Avill soon have some 
jneans of finding our whereabouts.” 

“Nonsense,” retorted Marea. 

“But, Marea, I feel that it will not end 
well.” 

“ We can wait and see whether it does or 
not. Once I am mistress of Mosslands all will 
be well, I am sure.” 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


70 


From the very hour in which Marea admin- 
istered the gypsy’s drug, James Avondale be- 
came a changed man. He became a puzzle to 
himself. For some reason, which he could not 
understand, he had strange longings to be near 
Miss Trillcott, contenting himself bv sitting in 
a schoolroom at Fairlawn for hours at a time 
watching her teach Helen. He concluded at 
last that he was in love with Marea, yet, lie 
told himself, it was not the same feeling of 
regard which he had had for Louisa Meridith. 

Marea was not at all surprised when he 
asked her to become his wife, and we well know 
that she accepted the offer at once. The cere- 
mony which made James Avondale and Marea 
Trillcott husband and wife was performed by a 
minister from Richmond in the parlor at Fair- 
lawn. Imnieiliately after the ceremony, Mr. 
and Mrs. Avondale, and Mrs. Trillcott drove 
over to the Avondale home, and Marea was 
installed as mistress of ‘‘ Mosslands.” 

The society people of the county were sur- 
prised at the idea of Mr. Avondale marrying a 
woman ©Lwhom he knew nothing at all, and 
whom most of them dubbed an adventuress. 
None among his friends were more shocked 
than the Montagues. Helen was extremely 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


71 


grieved to think that Marea Trillcott would be 
stepmother to her lifelong and devoted friend. 
Mr. Montague forbid his Avife and daughter to. 
mention the affair to Louisa in their letters to 
her. 

“ Her father is the proper party to inform 
her of the step he had taken.” 

From the time Marea married Mr. Avondale 
she lost no opportunity to farther her designs. 
The time for Louisa to return was drawing 
neai’, and Marea feared that a sight of his 
daughter might break the spell, and cause him 
to come to his sense of what he had done, in 
which his only child should be left penniless. 


72 


LOUISA AVONDALE, 


CHAPTER VIIL 
Louisa’s tkoubles begin. 

At last Louisa had graduated with high 
honors from Chelsea Place she had learned 
all that could be learned there. Madame Chel- 
sea sent a telegram to Mr. Avondale stating 
that his daughter would be home on the follow- 
ing evening. 

Marea knew that the time had arrived for her 
to act. James Avondale must never see his 
daughter’s face again. 

James Avondale retired in his usual good 
health, on the night before his daughter’s re- 
turn, never to rise again. 

He always kept a glass of water on a stand 
by his bedside, from which he drank frequently 
during t^ night. Into this Marea dropped 
the white ball which old Haidee had given 
her. When Mr. Avondale entered his sleep- 
ing apartment, feeling unusually thirsty, he 


^LOUISA AVONDALE. 




drank every drop of the water, thinking Chloe 
had placed it there as had been her custom. 

On the following morning Marea aroused 
the household by screaming and wailing that 
her husband was dead, and it was indeed true ; 
the master of Mosslands ” was no more. 

The lovely old mansion was turned into a 
house of mourning. On the walls, on every 
picture, on the door-knobs, hung yards and 
yards of mourning goods. Marea oidered the 
brougham to be draped before sending it over 
to the station for Miss Louisa. 

Poor Louisa! whose heart was so. light at 
the possibility of reaching her lovely home 
once more, to be with her kind father, whom 
she loved so well. 

When she stepped from the train at Eich- 
mond her heart gave a great bound of joy as 
she recognized Thomas Jefferson coming to- 
ward her, but her joy turned to consternation 
when she beheld the brougham all draped with 
mourning goods. 

^‘Is there anything wrong at ^Mosslands,’ 
Tom ? I mean has anything happened to 
papa ?” 

The colored man burst into tears, saying : 

Poah Massa Avondale is dead !” 


LOtTISA AVONDALB. . 


n- 

At the terrible words Louisa Avondale felt 
as if her heart had truly broken, but hearts 
never break in this cruel world. The poor 
child’s grief was terrible to witness when she 
stcod beside the lifeless' clay of her father, 
Ijnng in the elegant parlor of her grand old 
home. 

Still another shock was in store for her 
when Marea stood near, weeping and mur- 
muring soinetliing concerning her dear dead 
husband. 

Louisa set her great dark, terrilied eyes upon 
her steadfastly as she asked : 

“ Woman, what do you mean ?” 

“ I mean,” said Marea, “ that James Avon- 
dale, the man who lies here before me dead, 
was my husband. We were married moi'e 
than a year ago.” 

“ Oh, God !” murmured the unhappy child ; 
“ why has all this trouble come upon me at 
once ?” 

Poor Louisa then sank into an unconscious 
heap upon the floor. 

AVhen she regained consciousness she was 
lying omher own little bed, on which she had 
slept for so many years during her happy 
childhood days. Old Chloe was bending over 
her, saying': 


LOUISA AVONDALE, 


75 


‘‘ Poah little honey ! How ole Chloe’s heart 
do ache for her !’’ 

^‘Dear Mammy Chloe, how terrible it all is 
to think that my own dear papa is dead and a 
strange woman mistress of ‘Mosslands.’ What 
shall I do, Chloe ? What shall I do?” wailed 
the grief-stricken child. 

‘‘ Now don’t take on so, poah dear little 
honey, or you won’t be able ter attend de 
funeral to-morrer. It seems as if poah ole 
Chloe am left ter see de last ob de race laid 
away in de grabe. Now listen, Wesa ! ' If you 
libs longer den I done lib promise me dat you 
will see dat dey lay me away in de ole buryin’- 
ground of St. Jude, where Massa and Missie 
Meridith and Mars James and his dear Missa 
Wesa am all ter sleep till dat great da3^ Mars 
James promised ter see dat I would be put^ 
dere. He did not dream dat he would go befo’ 
ole Chloe. Promise me dat you will see to dat, 
Wesa, faw I knows m}^ days are nearly num- 
bered.” 

‘‘I shall take care that St. Jude’s will be 
your last resting-place, Chloe.” 

God lub de dear little honey for dat 
promise,” said the old darky gratefull3\ ‘‘ Do 
3"ou know, Miss Wesa, dat you are de' God’s 


76 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


libin’ image ob your deah mudder jess de time 
when she done ’loped wid Mars James, and 
le’me see, you are now jess about de age dat 
she was den, at de time she done ’loped. Yes, 
deah little honey, I done thought, when I sees 
j"ou standin’ by Mars James’ corpse down dere 
in de parlo’, dat Missa Wesa had come back 
from Pa’dise to mourn.” 

“ Chloe, Chloe, I am real flesh and blood. 
Yesterday I was but a gay, happ}’' child, to day 
I am but a piece of suffering humanity ; I really 
believe my heart is breaking.” 

^‘No, honey,” said Chloe, ‘Miearts don’t 
break in dis world, or ole Chloe’s heart would 
done broke long ago, when your poah mudder 
died. Poah, dear Miss Wesa, she was kind 
and good to old Mammy Chloe, and when I 
meets her in PaVlise I am glad I can tells her 
*dat eben dough de wa’ did come and free de 
slaves, dat I remained one jess de same as 
befo’, and helped take care ob her little girl.” 

Just then Helen Montague appeared upon 
the scene, and helped all in her power to com- 
fort her sorrowing friend. 

The doctors had said, asHaidee foretold they 
would, that Mr. Avondale had come to his 
death by disease of the heart, which of course 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


77 


stopped all wondering as to his sudden death, 
and on the day following Louisa’s arrival all 
that was mortal of the master of “Moss- 
lands” was laid to rest in the family burying- 
ground of St. Jude’s. 

Several days later Louisa Avondale was rav- 
ing with fever. The terrible . strain of her 
father’s death had prov^ed too much for her. 
For weeks and weeks the young girl lay at the 
point of death, faithfully nursed by old Mammy 
Chloe. Physicians despaired of her life, but 
luckily when the tide turned there was a 
change for the better, much to mammy’s intense 
joy, and to Marea’s annoyance, for she sincerely 
hoped that Louisa would die. 

•No sooner was Louisa out of danger when 
the fever was leaping wildly in old Chloe’s 
veins. But alas ! the poor old soul had not the 
strength, nor the youth, to help her fight 
against the terrible disease, and the poor old 
soul died, raving like a mad woman. 

Louisa fulfilled her promise to the old 
darky. She too was laid to rest in St. Jude’s, 
where lay so many of the Meridith race, 
whom the poor old slave had so long and faith- 
fully served. 

Marea had kept away from Louisa’s room 


78 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


during her illness, under the pretense that she 
was afraid of contracting the fever, when in 
reality she did not wish to see the child whom 
she had so bitterly wronged by stealing her 
fortune and murdering her father. 

One morning, when Louisa was almost well, 
Marea entered her room. “ Louisa,” she said, 
“it becomes my unpleasant duty to inform 
yon of the nature of the will which your late 
father made. In the first place he left his 
entire estate to me, and I am to provide for 
you.” 

“ Do you wish me to understand, madame, 
that papa, dearly as he loved me, has cast me 
aside in his will, leaving me entirely dependent 
upon you, a mere adventuress. If such a will 
has been made, madame, you are the one who 
has been instrumental in having it done. 
There is a mystery somewhere; something 
strange has been going on at “Mosslands.” 
Bear in mind, madame, that I, the proud 
daughter of the Avondales and the Meridiths, 
will never receive a single penny from you, 
never ! I would rather work for my living a 
thousand times over,” declared Louisa; the 
proud Southern blood of the young girl was all 
aglow from wounded pride. 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


79 


Marea stood trembling from the sudden out- 
burst of passion on the part of the young and 
beautiful girl, whom she supposed would be as 
gentle as a lamb. 

Marea’s courage returned quickly as she 
said : “ How dare you, a mere dependent, talk 
to me in that manner! Remember, Louisa 
Avondale, I am mistress of ^ Mosslands,’ and 
my will here is law.” 

It seems to have been law,” said Louisa, 
lier dark eyes flashing defiance, since you 
have at the same time stolen my father’s love 
from me, as well as my fortune and my lovely 
home. The very first time I ever set my eyes 
upon you, about four years ago, when you first 
came to Virginia, I took a strange dislike to 
you ; no doubt it was because you were to cross 
my path. As I said before, you have stolen my 
wealth, but bear in mind you will never enjoy 
it^ — you will be snubbed by the gentry of the 
county. Ho one will give you credit for 
causing a gentleman to disinherit his only 
child.” 

A mocking laugh broke from Marea’s lips 
as she said : ‘‘ Is that all you have to say, you 
impudent little wizard ? Do you not really 
think that it is quite presuming of a little beg- 


80 


Louisa avondalu. 


gar to talk in such a manner to the mistress of 
‘ Mosslands’ 2” 

“Marea Trillcott, the day will come when 
the wrong shall be righted, and you will 
awaken to the sudden realization that you are 
the beggar. As for me, I do not intend to 
beg ; I am young and strong and quite able to 
earn my own living. Now, as your unpleasant 
duty, as you were pleased to term it, is over, 
you will do me a favor by leaving my room.” 

After she had gone Louisa soon decided 
which course to pursue. She ordered Tom 
J eiferson to hitch Black Bess — the pony which 
Helen took care of during her absence— to the 
phaeton. Her little trunk was soon packed 
and placed therein, and Louisa soon arrived 
bag and baggage at “ Fairlawn.” 

The Montagues truly sympathized with 
the grief-stricken girl. Mr. Montague offered 
her a home at “Fairlawn” as long as she 
wished to stay. 

Mrs. Montague and Helen were most eager 
to have her remain with them, and though she 
thanked and blessed the Montagues a thousand 
times over for their kindness, she felt it her 
duty to refuse. 

“ No, my dear kind friends, I have health. 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


81 


strength and youth ; I think it is ray duty to 
earn my own livelihood.” 

The Montagues tried hard to alter her deter- 
mination, but to no avail. 

Louisa wrote at once to Madame Chelsea, 
telling her of the great change that had be- 
fallen her old home, that she was penniless, 
and asking niadame if there was a chance for 
her to get a position as teacher at Chelsea 
Place. Luckily a music teacher was needed, 
and raadame knew that Louisa was the very 
one for the place. 

This was more than Louisa had dared hope 
for, though when alone in her own room at 
“ Fairlawn” she shed many bitter tears at the 
idea of leaving her dear old Virginia home, 
without hope of ever returning to live there 
permanently again. Yet she permitted no one 
to see her grieve, and did not for one minute 
waver in her purpose. 

After bidding many sad adieux, Louisa found 
herself once more traversing the very road 
over which she had come such a short time be- 
fore, only a light-hearted child. She was now 
returning to Chelsea a child in years, but 
transformed into a woman by grief and sorrow. 
Many a person on that great railroad train 
looked at the sweet young girl, with sorrow 


8‘2 


LOTI ISA AtONDALn. 


stamped upon her face, made all the more im- 
pressive by her somber mourning garments, 
and wondered what was the tale of Avoe which 
plainly shone from her great dark e3^es. 

Madame Chelsea received Louisa back to 
Chelsea Place” with great joj^, and proceeded 
to make the unhappy child as comfortable as 
possible. 

Louisa made a great success as leader of 
music at Chelsea,” which was, at that time, 
the most fashionable boarding school in the 
United States, yet she was not satisfied, 
because she felt as if she were only aiding the 
rich ; the work Avhich she did could only be 
grasped by children of wealth ; she wished to 
enlarge her field of labor by helping a great 
man}" people, yet she could not conceivm w"hat 
it reall}^ was that she wished to do. She often 
mentioned her devise to Madame,” who en- 
couraged the idea very little, because she could 
not bear the idea of losing Louisa. But there 
was no use for “ Madame ” to be selfish con- 
cerning the matter ; there was no use in trying 
to keep a girl with a soul like Louisa Avondale’s 
pent up in selfish work for a few wealthy 
people, when her whole course in life seemed 
to be for the good, the true, and the beauti- 
ful.” 


LOUISA A VON DALE. 




CHAPTER IX. 

LOUISA GOES TO BELLEVUE. 

“ A VISITOR, inadaine,” announced a servant, 
as he handed her a card wliich bore the name 
of the Rev. Mr. Worthington. 

“ Such an unexpected pleasure to see you, 
Mr. Worthington,” said madanie as she 
entered the parlor. 

Thank you, inadanie,” said the clergyman, 
“ I hope you will be able to help me out of a 
dilemma; if I cannot obtain aid from ‘ Chelsea 
Place’ then I fear I shall have to give up the 
ghost entirely.” 

“ We will help you, sir, if it be in our power,” 
said madame. 

“ AVell, madame, our organist has been taken 
very ill, and as it is Saturday morning it is 
quite too late to make arrangements with anv 
one in the city. Do you think, madame, that 
you could provide us with an organist for serv- 
ice to-morrow ?” 


84 


LOUISA AVONDALE, 


I think I can help you, sir. There is a 
young girl here who is fully able to act in that 
capacity for 3’’ou to-morrow. I need not con- 
sult her on the subject. I can promise you 
definitely, for I know that she will be more 
than glad of an opportunity to help the good 
people of Grace Chapel. You may rest 
assured that she will be on time to-morrow.”’ 

Louisa Avondale, for it was none other than 
she, was glad to help the reverend gentleman 
out of trouble, and the next morning found her 
seated at her place in front of the organ. 

When service commenced, and her clear 
sweet soprano voice rang out above the 
strains of the grand old organ, the listeners 
fancied the place to be filled with heavenly 
music. 

Mr. Worthington was more than pleased 
with Madame’s pupil,” as he styled Louisa. 
He was very much surprised when he learned 
that she was the chief musical instructor of the 
institution; he declared she looked more like 
one belonging to the juniors of the college than 
belonging to the corps of teachers. A great 
intimacy at once sprang up between Louisa 
and the milrfster’s family. One Sunday morn- 
ing Mrs. Worthington sent Louisa an invitation 


LOUISA AVONDALE, 


85 


to dine with them, an invitation which Louisa 
was pleased to accept. As the meal pro- 
gressed Louisa informed the reverend gentle- 
man that she wished to broaden her field of 
labor, that she felt sure there must be some 
vocation which she could choose in order to 
relieve suffering humanity, yet she had no idea 
just when, and where, and how, such work 
could be found. 

“ I think I can help you. Miss Avondale. 
Have you ever thought of becoming a nurse in 
a hospital?” said the minister. 

‘‘ I never thought of any work of the kind, 
Mr. Worthington, but that is just the sphere 
of work which would, I know, please me 
greatly.” 

Very well. Miss Avondale, I can procure a 
place for you at Bellevue Hospital.” 

Oh ! sir, I thank and bless you a thousand 
times,” said Louisa. 

I am, indeed, glad to help you. Miss Avon- 
dale; the good intentions of young people 
ought to be encouraged.” 

Madame found that she would be obliged to 
part with Louisa, though she did so very re- 
luctantly. 

Louisa found life at Bellevue to be all that 


86 


LOUISA A VONDALE. 


she had wished for. It w'as, indeed, a boon to 
her young life to relieve the sufferer, which 
was her happy lot to do in a great many dif- 
ferent waj'^s, and also to whisper into the ears 
of the dying words which often blotted out 
despair, and brought peace and hope into their 
souls. A life devoted to such noble -work is 
truly a beautiful life indeed. 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


8 ? 


CHAPTER X. 

THE WAY OF THE TRANSGRESSOR IS HARD. 

AVhen Marea and Mrs, Trillcott found that 
Louisa had really left ‘^Mosslands” their anger 
knew no bounds ; together with being angry, 
conscience was smiting them. What was 
more, they knew that they would stand a good 
chance of being slighted b}^ the gentry of the 
county. Whatever little peace of mind Mrs. 
Trillcott enjoyed, Marea enjoyed none at all — 
she was most miserable. Every sound — the 
soughing of the Avind among the trees, the 
song of the bird, the screech of the owl, tlie 
rippling of the waters — all seemed to call out 
to her the same dreadful word “ murderess.” 

“Xo matter,” said Marea spitefully, ^Met 
the gentry snub us if they choose, we can find 
pleasure in travel.” 

“You are a clever schemer, Marea,” said 
Mrs. Trillcott. 


LOtnsA AVONDAtW. 


?8 

“ I have always been that, mother, or I 
never would have become mistress of lovely 
‘ Mosslands.’ ” 

“ But, Marea, what if we should happen to 
meet your Count Du Varri in our travels ; he 
might claim you for his wife when he Kndsyou 
are once more wealthy ; you know that was 
his object in marrying you in tlie first place.” 

“ Oh! mother, you are alwa^'s annoying me 
with dismal forebodings. People would laugh 
at him and call him a fool if he would attempt 
such proceedings.” 

“ But, Marea, he could prove that he married 
you, and if he were to do so the Avondale mil- 
lions would no longer be yours, because your 
second marriage would not be legal.” 

“ I shall manage all that, mother, if he should 
happen to cause trouble at any time.” But in 
her own heart Marea firmly believed that her 
husband, whose name she did not even know, 
would never trouble her again. The conver- 
sation was brought abruptly to a close by a 
darky entering the boudoir. 

“Please, Missa Avondale, dere am an ole 
beggar woin^n down at de doah, de kitchun 
doah. She won’t done take nulfen from us black 
girls, she says she’s ’fraid the missus will be 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


89 


angry if she ‘cepts anfing from we uns widout 
hearing you gib consent.” 

“ I will go down and see that the honest old 
soul gets a plentiful supply of victuals,” said 
Marea, as she followed black Sally down into 
the kitchen. Had she only known who the 
honest old soul was she would not have been 
so ready to go down to meet her. When she 
reached the kitchen door and saw old Haidee, 
standing before her, she almost 
wished the ground would open and swallow 
her, so great was her terror. 

“ Ah ! lady,” said the gypsy, in an under- 
tone, “ no doubt you have been thinking that 
old Haidee would never cross your path again. 
I see the little pink and white balls have done 
the work Avhich I promised they would do. 
You have gained the aim for which you ad- 
ministered them. In other words you have 
received your reward, now I am here for mine. 
I see by your looks that you would like to 
deny having used them, but I know well 
enough that the little balls have done their 
work, Ida Stewart, Countess Du Varri, Marea 
Trillcott, Mrs. Avondale. Quite a number of 
names for one' lady to possess in a lifetime,” 
said the gypsy sarcastically. 


90 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


“ I do not know which name you prefer 
being called — Mrs. Avondale, no doubt. Well, 
Mrs. Avondale, we cannot come to terms here, 
but meet me at the edge of yonder copse to- 
night at ten o’clock sharp. Beyond the copse 
my tents are pitched, my tribe are there. Do 
not dare disappoint me ; mind, promptly at ten. 
Now have ray basket filled with victuals ; no 
doubt the darkies are already wondering what 
this debate is about.” 

Marea beckoned one of the darkies to take 
Haidee’s basket and fill it with bread and 
meat. The colored girl complied with her 
mistress’ request very reluctantly ; darkies 
have a great aversion to gypsies. When they 
heard Haidee speak of being a gypsy ever}'’ 
darky retreated as far as the kitchen wall 
would allow, consequently heard not a \vord of 
the above-named conversation. 

Marea knew full well that she dared not dis- 
appoint the old gypsy ; promptly at ten she 
stood at the edge of the copse, a lonel}' place 
nearly a mile from the mansion. The moon 
peeped ou^from behind the clouds occasion- 
ally. Marea was alone in a lonely place, her 
only companion being a guilty conscience. A 
sudden terror took possession of her, and she 


■LOUISA AVONDALE. 


91 


was about to speed away across the fields to 
“ Mosslands,” when Haidee stood beside her, 
coming from Marea knew not whither. 

“Mercy, Haidee!” screamed Marea, “where 
did you come from so suddenly ? Only a min- 
ute ago I was alone — you must certainly have 
dropped from the clouds ; or no, Haidee, I 
might know better. A creature as wicked and 
depraved as you never will be able to penetrate 
into the clouds.” 

“ 1 ou are ditto in that respect, Mrs. Avon- 
dale ; you are every bit as wicked as old Haidee. 
Hut I am not here to speak of our spiritual wel- 
fare, my time is far too precious to waste on 
such rubbish. As I told you to-day, you have 
liad your reward, madame, by stealing the 
Avondale wealth from the true heir, now I am 
here to claim ray share of the wealth. I told 
you that day at Cape May that I always claim 
my reward after the work has been accom- 
plished. That is my business here to-night, 
i ou must either hand over the sum which 
I name, or stand exposure — now take your 
choice.” 

“ Hame the amount,” said Marea in a husky 
voice. 

“ A thousand dollars now, and every time I 
see fit to demand the same sum.” 


92 


LOniSA AVONDALE. 


Marea knew that remonstrance with the old 
hag would be of no avail. 

“ I have not the sum which you name with 
me to-night, Haidee, but come across to ‘ Moss- 
lands ’ to-morrow morning, and I will give you 
the money. But remember, Haidee, you are 
not to come to me every two or three months 
for a thousand dollars. The Avondale millions 
would last no time, and what is more, if it were 
not for you and your wicked plots and evil de- 
signs I would not be a murderess this very 
minute.” 

“ Mrs. Avondale, you mean Avere .it not for 
old Haidee and her plots and designs, as you 
are pleased to style them, that you never 
Avould have become mistress of ‘ Mosslands.’ 
I did not force you to use the drugs, you did 
it of your own free Avill. I shall be over for 
the money in the morning. As to when I 
shall trouble you again is entirely my affair.” 
And with a bound the gypsy disappeared into 
the wood as suddenly as she had put in an 
appearance, leaving Marea standing terrified 
and alone-4n a lonely spot. She crossed the 
fields with flying feet. It was almost the mid- 
night hour when she reached the mansion. 
She entered by a side door, and managed to 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


93 


reach her room without awakening the darkies 
from their peaceful slumbers. 

“Well, my daughter, how did you fare?” 
said Mrs. Trillcott, who had been awaiting her 
daughter’s return to learn the result o? the 
conference between her and the gypsy hag. 

“ Oh ! badly enough, mother. The oUrhag 
declares that she will demand a thousand dol- 
lar's from me every time she sees tit to do so, 
and if I refuse to give her the money at any 
time she will expose me to the world as a mur- 
deress, and what is more, she knowsof my first 
marriage, because she called me Countess Du 
Varii in her conversation with me this morning, 
and although she did not intimate anything of 
the kind, I firmly believe she knows of his where- 
abouts. She will come over in the morning, 
and, of course, I will have to give her the gold 
which she claims she has a just right to have.” 

“Oh! Marea, I fear our troubles are only- 
beginning.” 

The woi’ds sounded like a prophecy to 
Marea, who truly felt within herself that “the* 
way of the transgressor is hard.” 


04 


LOUISA AVON L ALU. 


CHAPTEE XI. 

ROBERT AND LOUISA. 

Eighteen years have come and gone since 
Robert and Paul liad first settled in South 
America, at the end of which time they find 
themselves enormously wealthy. Robert, how- 
ever, is homesick ; he therefore makes up his 
mind to sell his interests in South America, 
and return to live and die in his native state, 
good old Virginia. During all tlie long years 
Rob had never married. Paul promised Rob- 
ert that if he (Rob) succeeded in re-buying tiso 
old homestead, “ Meridith Hall,” that he and 
his family would remove to Virginia. One fine 
morning in January, Robert set sail for New 
York, at which place business interests called 
him, before he could reach his native state. 
After a stormy voyage of nearly a month, 
Robert arrived at New York. As he was 
walking rapidly along East Twenty-fourth 
street, an old lady attempted to cross from one 


LOUISA AVON BALK. 


95 


side to another just as a carriage, drawn by two 
spirited horses, came dashing along. Eob saw 
that the old lady was in imminent danger, and 
immediately sprang to her rescue. He saved the 
old lady’s life, but in so doing was thrown to the 
ground, receiving an ugly and painful wound 
on his arm, and sustaining injuries about his 
head. He remained conscious long enough to 
ask some one among the crowd to take him to 
a hospital. He was taken to Bellevue, and 
was carried to Louisa Avondale’s ward. 

It was a long time before Eobert regained 
consciousness, and when he did open his eyes 
to what was going on around him he could 
not remember where he was, nor what had 
happened. A familiar form was sitting near 
the fireplace, in such a position that Eobert 
could see her face from the bed on which he 
lay. 

“ My God !” thought Eob, as his memory 
slowly returned, and as he thought of the acci- 
dent which had happened to him. “ Did I die, 
and is my soul in another world, where the 
soul of my beautiful sister was launched at the 
time of her death, for as sure as I am a living 
or a dead man — I know not which — that is my 
sister who died in the long-ago sitting there 
near the fireplace.” 


96 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


It was some time before he could utter a 
word, so great was his bewilderment. At last 
he managed to say a few words, which brought 
the young nurse instantly to his bedside. 

“ In God’s name, who are you, what is your 
name, and where am I?” 

“ Pray quiet yourself, my good man. Any 
excitement on your part will make your chance 
of life very slim by causing a hemorrhage of 
the wound on your arm; so please be quiet. 
Y ou may rest assured that you are among 
friends.” 

Eob’s astonishment and perplexity had only 
increased at every word she had uttered. Her 
voice as well as her looks was exactly like that 
of his sister Louisa. The young girl who stood 
by his bedside was the exact counterpart of his 
sister, just as she looked eighteen years ago on 
that never-to-be-forgotten night when she ran 
away from home. “Time has not changed 
her the slightest bit,” thought Kob ; “ not the 
slightest bit in eighteen years.” 

“ If you will only tell me your name, and 
whether or not you are real flesh and blood, I 
will be willing to keep quiet. You are the 
living image of my dear sister, who died about 
eighteen years ago.” 


L O ms A A VON DA L E. 


97 


Louisa could not help smiling at the absurd 
question asked of her as to whether or not she 
was real fiesli anti blood, and thinking he was a 
little feverish she answered his question, more 
to please him than for any other reagon. 

“ I assure you that I am real flesh and blood. 
My name is Louisa Meridith Avondale.” 

“ Then you are either my sister or iny niece. 
Who were your parents ? 1 am Robert Meri- 
dith, and my home was ‘ Meridith Hall,’ near 
Richmond, Virginia. My sister married James 
Avondale, of ‘Mosslands,’ and you are her 
living image.” 

“ Then,” said Louisa, “ you are indeed my 
uncle, for the lady whom you have just men- 
tioned is my mother. She died when I was an 
infant. But the strange part of it all is that I 
never heard my papa say that my mother had 
a brother.” 

“ She had two bi’others — Paul, who is in 
South America, and myself.” 

“ I I’eally believe you are my uncle, my 
mother’s brother. I now' remember seeing 
your picture hanging in the parlor at ‘ Meri- 
dith Hall’ the first and only time I ever was 
there. I asked papa and Mammy Chloe whose 
picture it was, but neither of them gave me the 
desired information,” 


98 L0UI8A AVONDALE. 

‘‘I cannot understand why it is that your 
father has kept you in ignorance of the fact 
that your mother had two brothers, but no 
doubt he has a reason for it. My dear, newly- 
found niece, I always thought that my sister 
died childless. Paul and I were as ignorant of 
your existence as \^ou were of ours. What is 
more, Louisa, it is a great mystery to me why 
you, the proud daughter of the Avondales and 
the Meridiths, ever came to be a nurse at 
Bellevue Hospital.” 

My dear uncle Eobert, if I allow you to go 
on talking at this rate I fear the worst will 
happen, and I cannot bear the thought of losing 
you now when I have just found 3^ou. Now 
don’t talk any more for the present, there’s a 
good dear. I promise to tell you all just as 
soon as you are strong enough to listen. Now 
take 3^our medicine, uncle dear,” as she poured 
several drops from a small vial. He took it 
and was soon sleeping soundly. 

When the physician came in to see the sick 
man he pronounced him out of danger, much 
to Louisa’s satisfaction. Louisa then poured 
the straiT^e story into the ears of the young- 
doctor, who had been one of her favorites 
during her experience as nurse at Bellevue, 


LOtrrSA A VONPALK. 


Of) 


The two years which she was oHiged to spend, 
after she took up her sphere of work at the 
hospital, was almost at an end. The young 
doctor and Louisa had been more than friends, 
they were lovers. 

“ Miss Avondale, Louisa, you do not know 
how dear you are to me. Now I fear I shall 
lose you ; your uncle will no doubt take you 
away wdth him, back to Virginia, then what 
will life at Bellevue be to me? Promise me 
this very minute, Louisa, that you will become 
my wife in a year’s time at least. If you do 
not care for me now, you can at least learn to 
love me.” 

“Dr. Montford,” said Louisa, raising her 
lovely eyes for the first time wdiile he had been 
speaking, “surely my happiness has been com- 
pleted to-day. Only yesterday I thought 1 
was alone in the world, while to-day I have 
found a kinsman near and dear to me, my own 
dear mamma’s brother, and now the only man 
on this earth whom I could ever love asking 
me to become his wife.” 

This shy confession launched the doctor into 
the seventh heaven of happiness, and so it was 
settled : Louisa Avondale was the promised 
wife of young Dr. Montford. 

After several days Dr Montford pro- 


100 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


nounced Robert to be in a fit condition to hear 
all Louisa had to tell him, which was the most 
pathetic tale he had ever listened to — after 
which Louisa shyly told him of her engage- 
ment to Dr. Montford. 

Robert was well pleased with Louisa’s 
choice. His only request was to delay the mar- 
riage for a time at least, as he did not wish to 
be separated from his beautiful niece, whom he 
considered a newly-found treasure, really more 
dear to him than he ever considered the gold 
mines which lie owned in South America- 

Robert was able to go downstairs the niglit 
on which his niece graduated as a professional 
nurse, and in that vast assemblage of the most 
cultured people of New York two gentlemen 
looked upon Louisa with especial pride, for 
they knew full well that she had performed a 
noble work, while the rest of the audience, 
who were less interested, commented much 
about her beauty and amiability of manner. 

Robert Meridith could not bear to have his 
lovely niece remain longer at the hospital ; he 
at last, after much pleading, gained her con- 
sent to return with him to Virginia. 

Louisa would not leave New Yoik without 
bidding Julieu to her kind friends, Madame 
Chelsea and the Worthingtons. 


101 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


CHAPTEE XII. 

Rob’s betrothal. 

Madame promised faithfully to go down in 
Virginia to be present when Louisa married 
Dr. Montford, and good Mr. Worthington was 
engaged as officiating minister. Louisa and her 
uncle were soon on their way home. One 
week from the day on which they left New 
York a lady and gentleman was seen entering 
the churchyard of St. Jude, the silent habita- 
tion of the dead. The gentleman is Kobert 
Meridith, the lady Louisa Avondale. They go 
to the family lot of the Meridiths, where Rob 
had not been since the day liis father was in- 
terred, eighteen years before. On the monu- 
ments they found the following inscriptions : 
“ Sacred to the memory of James Hastings 
Meridith, who died August the 2d, 1859. He 
was master of ‘ Meridith Hall,’ and third son of 
Edward, Earl of Dorset.” On the same mon- 
ument read another inscription: “ Sacred to 


103 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


the memory of Eleanor Louisa Meridith, be- 
loved wife of James H. Meridith, of ‘ Meridith 
Hall,’ died March 26, 1841.” On another: 
“ Sacred to the memory of Louisa Meridith 
Avondale, beloved wife of James Avondale, of 
‘Mosslands,’ Co., Virginia, and daugh- 

ter of Eleanor Louisa and James Hastings 
Meridith, of ‘ Meridith Hall,’ departed this life 
June 15,1860.” “Sacred to the memory of 
James Avondale, son of Wellington and Eliz- 
abeth Avondale, of ‘ Mosslands,’ and grandson 
of Lord Trevelyn Avondale, of England, died 
June 20, 18T6.” 

“ And now. Uncle Kob, we must not forget 
to look at Mammy Chloe’s grave. She begged 
me to have her buried in this cemetery, where 
lay so many of a race she so faithfully served. 
I do not know exactly where it is, but we can 
find it easily enough, for I had a little grave- 
stone placed over old Chloe’s grave.” 

“ And I am glad you did, Louisa ; you cer- 
tainly are a vei*y kind and considerate girl.” 

They soon found the little headstone on which 
was written : “ Sacred to the memory of Chloe, 
a faith fuL-darky, who served the families of 
Avondale and Meridith faithfully until the 
last days of her life. Died August 14, 1876.” 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


1U3 


With hearts too full for utterance, Eobert 
and Louisa left the cemetery, which held so 
many of their loved ones in its bosom. They 
entered the carriage and drove on to “ Meri- 
dith Hall.” As they went up the drive mem- 
ories buried under the snows of eighteen years 
surged up in Eob’s mind, and, strong man 
though he was, an unbidden tear would now 
and then roll down his cheeks. 

“ Mei’idith Hall ” appeared to Eob as beauti- 
ful as it did the day on Avhich he left it eight- 
een years ago. The good people who owned 
the place remembered Eob as being the former 
owner of the “ Hall,” and allowed him and 
Louisa to roam through the mansion at will. 
The same furniture was still there, the same 
pictures adorned the walls — every thing seemed 
as familiar to Eob as if he had left it only 
yesterday. 

Eobert soon learned from the good people of 
the house that they were dissatisfied and wished 
to sell the place. They wished to sell it because 
the war had reduced their wealth a great de al, 
by causing them to lose their slaves ; By burning 
fences wdfich surrounded their estate ; the Yan- 
kee soldiers had carried off their silver, and had 
even torn the silver buckles from the ladies. 


104 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


shoes. True, they had lingered at the grand old 
place, loath to leave it, but now they felt obliged 
to sell the place to procure means to live upon. 
Eobert at once offered to buy his old home 
again. The offer was accepted, and “ Meridith 
Hall ” was once more the property of the Meri- 
diths. 

Eobert lost no time to inform Paul all that 
had occurred since he had returned to the 
States, and Paul, true to his promise, was soon 
on his way to Virginia. Louisa awaited the 
coming of the newly-found relatives with eager 
pleasure. 

The Montagues were apprised of the presence 
of Eobert and Louisa at the “ Hall.” They 
were rejoiced at Louisa’s good fortune, and lost 
no time in going over to see her, it being only 
a distance of eleven miles from the “ Hall ” to 
Fairlawn. Louisa |, revailed on Mrs. Montague 
not to take Helen back with her, but allow her 
to remain at the Hall ” until the arrival of 
her relatives from South America. Helen re- 
mained, and the two girls always looked back 
upon those^ays spent at the “ .Hall ” as the be- 
ginning of a new life for them. 

Louisa was not long in finding out that her 
uncle was in love with Helen, and that Helen 


LO mSA A VomA LE. 106 

was not slow in reciprocating the same. Yet 
Louisa, saw that her uncle did not push matters 
on account of the great difference between his 
ago and Helen’s. * Louisa, however, determined 
to bring the affair to a climax as quickly as 
possible. Just how to go about the same was 
a puzzle to her, but fate determined to arrange 
matters for them. 

The meadows at Meridith place were alive 
with wild flowers, as all meadows are in the 
springtime of the year. Louisa and Helen 
went out to gather some of the pretty treas- 
ures; after they had gathered a goodly share of 
them, they sat down on a moss-covered log to 
arrange them into bouquets. Kobert, who was 
as fond of hunting as he was years ago, sud- 
denly came upon the pretty scene, though un- 
observed by either of the girls. As he stood 
Avatching the two girls, and listening to their 
innocent talk, Helen dropped a few words 
Avhich caused him to dodge behind a tree, for 
he knew what she had said would make him 
and her feel rather awkward if he were to 
make his presence known. 

She had picked several pretty blossoms and 
arranged them into a bouquet, saying These 
are for iny darling Eobert.” The young girl 


106 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


hai not intended to make such a plain confes- 
sicn, even to Louisa, for she looked up and 
blushed violently. 

“ So you are in love with him, are you, you 
sly puss ? I have known it all the while ; do 
ycu think you could hide that from me, Helen? 
How be an honest little ‘ Injun’ and own to the 
truth.” 

“ Yes, Louisa, I do love him; but I am sure 
he don’t care a bit for poor little me. I know, 
of course, that he is many years my senior, but 
1 love him as dearly as if he were exactly my 
own age.” 

“ Helen, Helen, my own dear lifelong friend, 
I am sure he cares for you, and I know that 
vou would make him the sweetest little wife 
that he could find if he roamed the world over 
and over. The only trouble which I see ahead 
would be, how' could I ever get used to calling 
you auntie ?” 

At these words the two girls indulged in a 
good hearty laugh, as they arose to go over to 
the “Hall.” 

“ So youjove me, do you, my pretty dear ?” 
said Eob, speaking to himself, as he watched 
the two girls cross the meadow. “ Well, I am 
young enough to marry; my wealth shall make 
up for the difference in our years.” 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


107 


Eofeert could not help smiling when Helen 
gave him the little bouquet, after having heard 
the confession which she made. Louisa was 
also smiling approvingly from across the room. 

Eobert pushed his suit, and soon the matter 
was settled. Louisa received the news with 
great joy, and by mutual consent the two girls 
agreed to have their marriages performed. on 
the same day, but just when and where they 
were, as yet, unable to decide. 

Meridith Hall ” presented a holiday appear- 
ance the day on which Paul was expected. 
Rob went to Richmond to escort them out to 
the Hall. Louisa stood on the veranda to meet 
the little party of South Americans. 

“Louisa, this is your Uncle Paul and Aunt 
Vinette,” said Eobert, by way #f introduction. 
“Here are your Cousins Rob and Paul, and 
this is Louisa, and last but not least, allow me 
to present you to little Virginia, who looks so 
much like you and your dear mother.” 

From the moment Louisa and her newly- 
found relatives met, a love, which lasted 
throughout the rest of their long, happy lives, 
sprang up between them. 

“Now,” said Louisa, turning to Helen, “it 
is my turn to introduce you, my dear cousins, 


108 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


to your future aunt, and. Aunt Yinette and 
Uncle Paul, to your future sister.” 

‘‘Uncle Robert to become a Benedict?” they 
all shouted in a chorus. 

“I knew you would be caught in love’s 
talons some day, Robert,” said Aunt Yinette. 

“And really I will have the two loveliest 
aunties in all the wide world,” said Louisa 
Avondale. 

The week which followed Paul’s return was 
spent in merry making and feasting, in honor 
of the happy family reunion. 

Robert went over to “ Fairlawn ” with 
Helen, when she returned, to inform Mr. and 
Mrs. Montague of their betrothal. Both were 
highly pleased and gave their consent without 
hesitation, thinking their daughter had very 
good taste in selecting a husband who was at 
the same time wealthy and of a very good 
family. 

Louisa xivondale grew more and more fond 
of her cousins every day. She really could 
not tell who among them was her favorite. 
Robert, Jr^vas ver}^ much, in ways and ap- 
pearance, like his Uncle Robert, while Paul, 
Jr., favored his mother, who was a well bred 
Spanish lady. Louisa Meridith bore a striking 


LOUISA A VONDALE, 


109 - 


resemblance to a portrait of her Grandma 
Meridith, which hung in the parlor at the 
‘‘ Ilaiy’ where life-sized portraits of the Meri- 
dith wives hung for several generations. Little 
Virginia favored her Aunt Louisa, and con- 
sequently she was much like the Louisa Avon- 
dale of the present time. 


110 


LOUISA AVOJfJDALE. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

THE gypsy's revenge. 

Almost a year had rolled round since Marea 
Avondale had given Haidee, the gypsy, the 
thousand dollars, and she was beginning to 
congratulate herself on being rid of the old 
gypsy’s demands, for a time at least. The 
season at the fashionable summer resorts were 
commencing, so Marea and Mrs. Trillcott lost 
no time in reaching Cape May as early in 
the season as possible. 

“Now,” thought Marea, after they were 
comfortably settled at Cape May, “ if that 
wretched old* hag goes to ‘Mosslands’ she 
will find us lion est, and by the time she gets 
here we will have been gone somewhere else.” 
But in her latter proposition she was to be 
disappointe'd:' 

A band of gypsies had pitched their tents 
near the corpse several days after Marea’s de 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


Ill 


parture; it was Haidee and her tribe. The 
money which Marea had given her was spent 
during the winter ramblings through the 
South ; they then wandered back to Virginia 
to get more money from her. On arriving at 
“ Mosslands,” and finding her gone, Haidee’s 
anger knew no bounds. 

‘‘Where has your mistress gone?” she de- 
manded of the frightened dark}^, who had 
told her that Mrs. Avondaie was not at home. 

“ I think dey calls de place May’s Cape, or 
Jane’s Cape ; somephing to dat ’feet.” 

“ Gone to Cape May,” said Haidee, as she 
turned and walked away. “Well, I guess I 
can go there also. She knew I would come 
about this time of the year, and no doubt she 
is flattering herself on having made good her 
escape, but I’ll see if I shall cross half a dozen 
States to be outwitted by her.” 

Mrs. Avondale was enjoying the pleasures of 
the great watering-place with full zest. Her 
being wealthy and bearing the grand old name 
of Avondale caused her to be a general favorite, 
and though she met many of her old Philadel- 
phia acquaintances she met them as strangers. 
Not one of them thought of her as Ida Stewart, 
the girl who dropped out of society nearly six 


112 


horns A AVONDAin. 


years before. : . 'No. one dreamed of the wealthy 
Mrs. Avondale as being the victim of the Dn 
Varri scandal. 

After having spent a da3^ crowded with an 
unusual amount of enjoyment Marea felt as if 
she would like to be alone for a time ; so, in- 
stead of going down into the ballroom and 
joining the gay throng of merry dancers, she 
threw a light wrap around her and went out to 
enjoy a walk along the beach, to be alone for a 
time with her conscience and the roar of old 
ocean. 

The beach seemed to be deserted. Not a 
soul was to be seen. Suddenly there came a 
sensation over Marea that some one was near — 
a sensation which we have all experienced at 
some time of our lives — and on turning to see 
if what she imagined were true she beheld old 
Haidee, the gypsy, standing before her. 

“ Mercy on us, Haidee, where did you come 
from so suddenly 

“ Oh, lady, I have traveled over the plains of 
many States, and the mountains of Kentuckjr, 
Tennessee and Virginia, and endured great 
hardships-te reach your home, lovely ‘ Moss- 
lands,’ which I helped 3 ^ou procure. You were 
not there. After which I was obliged to travel 


LOmSA AVONDALE. 


113 


over two more States to meet you.. Traveled 
alone and on foot from ‘ Mosslands^ to Cape 
May. Traveled alone along the dismal roads 
of Maryland and tlie more lonely ones of JSTew 
Jersey. My object in coming to you is, as you 
well know, money. The money which you 
gave me last autumn has been spent, and 
before I leave Cape May, or before you shall 
dare leave it, you will pay me another thou- 
sand.” 

Mercy, Haidee, have you no reason or 
sense ? I cannot give you the money. I can- 
not afford it, and that is all I have to say.” 

‘‘ But I say you will pay it, no matter if you 
have to beg, borrow or steal it. You can 
affoi’d to give it to me. Y ou can loll in luxury 
here at Cape May, while the poor old woman 
who procured this wealth for you is obliged to 
go barefooted and hungry half of the time. If 
you do not pay me the money in short order 
you will soon find yourself a beggar.” 

“ You will have to wait for several days, 
Haidee, because I have not the amount which 
you name here at present.” 

‘‘Very well, Mrs. Avondale; but please get 
it here as quickly as you can, because 1113^ 
hungry tribe are anxiously awaiting me in the 


114 


LOUISA AVONDALTt. 


copse near Mosslands.’ I will give you three 
days to get the money for rne. Now mind 
you, only three daj^s!” 

When Marea reached the hotel the ball was 
at its height. 

‘‘Why not go into the ballroom and drown 
my anxiety by mingbng with the gay crowd,” 
thouglit Marea as she looked toward the ball- 
room. She accordingly ascended to her room, 
donned her prettiest ball-dress, and was soon 
dancing as if she were the gayest of the gay. 

Marea wondered if there were many hearts 
as heavy as hers under their gay costumes. 

While Marea was engaged in the above 
thought the familiar voice of one of her lady 
friends arrested her attention. 

“ Mrs. Avondale, allow me to present you to 
Mr. Arnold.” 

When Marea looked at Mr. Arnold she could 
scarcely repress a scream, for before her stood 
Count Du Varri, her own husband. She knew 
that he had recognized her as quickly as she 
had recognized him. 

“ Come out upon the veranda, Ida,” he said, 
as soon as^the lady left them, “ I wish to talk 
with you.” 

She obeyed him mechanically, wondering 
what new trouble was in store for her. 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


115 


“Ida,” he said, when they reached the 
veranda, “ I can never ask you to forgive me 
for deserting you ; I was a fool and a coward, 
and I am heartily ashamed of my brutal con- 
duct. I have searched for you everywhere, 
and now if you will only permit me I will 
make amends for my former conduct. At tlie 
time of our marriage I had not informed my 
relatives that I was about to take upon myself 
a wife, because I wished to surprise them by 
presenting my rich wife into their fashionable 
society. The family to which I belong is a 
proud Southern one, and when you became 
poor I knew that my mother would never 
receive you, therefore I saw fit to desert you ; 
Oh, the shame of the cowardly act ! I was 
i-eckless in my youth; nothing in the world 
could daunt me; all sorts of mad freaks I 
would undertake, such as styling myself a 
count, or a lord, but I have lived to get over 
my folly. JSTow, Ida, I ask and beg of you to 
forget the past and be my wife once more. 
We can have a minister go through the form 
of a marriage ceremony ; I can pay him to keep 
his mouth shut about the affair, and who will 
know that we have been married for years ? 
It can be done at once, if you wish, to-morrow, 


116 


LOUISA AVONDALE, 


right here at Cape May. Do you accept the 
proposition which I have just made, Ida 

She had been turning the matter over rapidly 
in her own mind, and came to the conclusion 
that it was the very best she could do, as 
Arnold would be to her a powerful ally against 
old Haidee. 

‘‘ I agree with you, Mr. .Arnold.” 

Edwin, you mean; my name is Edwin 
Arnold.” 

Marea then told him, without reserve, all 
that had taken place since the time of their 
marriage ; the only part of the story which she 
failed to repeat was the way in which Mr. 
Avondale met his death, telling Arnold that he 
died of heart disease. She did not wish him to 
know that she was a murderess. 

‘‘ I think I can devise a plan to rid us of the 
old gypsy. Wait until the ceremony is per- 
formed to-morrow, after which we can soon 
have old Haidee in a secure place, in some 
asylum for instance, then we can enjoy the 
Avondale millions to our hearts’ content.” 

“ Ho^v^lever you are, Edwin,” said Ida 
approvingly. 

The next day a benediction was pronounced 
over them in the parlor of the Hotel, 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


117 


Cape May. Only one among the great number 
of people who witnessed the ceremony knew 
that it was not real, and that was Ida’s mother, 
Mrs. Stewart, whom we have known so long as 
Mrs. Trillcott. 

On the same evening Ida sent word for old 
Haidee to come to her rooms at the hotel, and 
receive the money which had been promised 
to her a few days previous. Arnold secreted 
himself in a closet, having a bottle of chloro- 
form near at hand, and waited for the gypsy 
to arrive. 

The old woman came in answer to Ida’s 
summons, suspecting no wrong. While in con- 
versation with Ida, Arnold pounced upon her, 
placed a plaster across her mouth, to prevent 
her from screaming, then applied a sponge, 
well saturated with chloroform, to her nostrils, 
and the old gypsy was soon rendered uncon- 
scious. Arnold then carried her down on the 
beach, where a carriage stood in readiness, 
into which he placed Haidee and drove to a 
more deserted part of the seashore, where two 
ruffians, hired for the purpose, were awaiting 
his coming, having a yacht in readiness. 
Haidee was placed therein, and the boat was 
soon making rapid speed toward Jersey City. . 


118 


LOUISA A VONDALE. 


On reaching the city, Arnold, with his uncon- 
scious burden, entered a cab and was driven to 
a well-known insane asylum, where old Haidee 
was left to the mercy of the keepers, who were 
promised an ample monthly compensation for 
keeping her a close prisoner. 

As soon as Haidee regained consciousness, 
and found where she was, she began to be on 
the alert to detect some means of escape, 
swearing to have revenge on the woman who 
was the cause of her imprisonment. Haidee 
was allowed to roam through the building at 
will, but the guards kept a close watch at the 
doors to prevent her from escaping. 

Haidee had been a prisoner almost two 
weeks, and as she sat in her little low room, 
the picture of despair, the terrible cry of fire 
rang through the building. Haidee made haste 
to reach the kitchen. She could hear the keep- 
ers calling to their aids to save the inmates. 
jS^o one seemed to notice Haidee ; the guards 
were not at the kitchen door; her heart gave 
a great bound of joy as she stepped out upon 
the street^a free woman. 

Haidee never stopped running until she 
reached a railway station, where she boarded 
a train going south. As the train rushed on- 


LOUISA A VO ND ALU. 


119 


ward Haidee began to realize that she was 
completely out of the toils of her enemies. 

‘‘Now for my revenge,” she thought; “you 
shall step down from your throne, my kind- 
hearted Mrs. Arnold ” (Haidee had heard of iier 
marriage at Cape May, and had seen and rec- 
ognized Arnold as Du Varri.) “in less than two 
months’ time. What is more, care Avill be 
taken to see that old Haidee shall receive her 
reward for restoring the Avondale wealth to 
the rightful heirs.” 

On arriving at Richmond, Haidee proceeded 
to the office of Mr. Shelb}^, one of Richmond’s 
most prominent lawyers, and who had been, 
during Mr. Avondale’s lifetime, the law^^er for 
the Avondale estate. After his death the law- 
yer received notice from Mrs. Avondale, for 
some reason best known to herself, that his 
services were no longer required. 

“Well, my good woman,” said the lawyer 
kindly, for Mr. Shelby was a pleasant and 
genial gentleman, “can I help you out of 
trouble in any way ? If I can I am sure I am 
at your service.” 

“Mr. Shelby,” began Haidee, “you had at 
one time charge of the estate of James Avon- 
dale, of ‘ Mosslands,’ had 3^011 not?” 


120 


LOtrtSA AVONDALE. 


Mr. Shelby acknowledged that he had been 
.Mr Avondale’s attorney for years. 

“ Well, sir,” went on Haidee, “ have you 
never thought that it was a most singular coin- 
cidence that James Avondale disinherited his 
only child, leaving his entire estate to an 
adventuress ? — the woman he married was noth- 
ing more.” 

“Yes, madame, I am forced to admit thdt 
the same has been a riddle which I have never 
been able to solve satisfactorily myself, and I 
am sure no one else has ever called upon me 
to solve it for them. It was indeed a strange 
thine for a man as good and noble as James 
Avondale to do, especially when he was so de- 
voted to his child, seeming to live for and love 
her alone.” 

“Well, Mr. Shelby, I can give you an im- 
portant clue, if you care to look the matter up, 
and restore the wealth to its rightful owner. 
1 will give you the clue if you will see that I 
shall be rewarded for the trouble I have taken. 
If you take up the case there is no fear as to 
yonr losing it, I can assure yoii.” 

“Well, madame, I shall listen to what you 
have to say, and if I find there has been foul 
play I shall do all in my power to restore the 
wealth to its rightful owner.” 


121 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 

Haidee explained to the lawyer all the inci- 
dents concerning Ida Stewart’s first marriage. 
That Arnold had been alive and not divorced 
from her at the time of her marriage with 
James Avondale, the same would, of course, 
)nake her second marriage void, and of course 
slie could not claim a penny of the Avondale 
wealth, because she was not James Avondale’s 
widow in the eyes of the law. Haidee took 
care not to mention the active part she had 
taken in the affair for fear of inveigling herself 
into a trap. 

The lawyer listened attentively to all Haidee 
liad to say, knowing perfectly well that if all 
the woman had said were true that the case 
would prove a bonanza to him. 

He then told her that Louisa Avondale 
was at “Meridith Hall,” to which place he 
would go at once and have an interview with 
Robert Meridith, the young girl’s uncle. He 
took Haidee’s address and told her to call at 
his office as soon as he should send for her. 

After reaching the*“ Hall,” and explaining 
the matter to Robert, it was agreed upon to 
send for Mrs. Arnold and husband to come im- 
mediately to Richmond, where they would all 
meet : that is, Haidee, Robert and Paul, whom 


122 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


it was agreed should appear for Louisa and 
Mr. Shelby, all to meet at the latter’s office at 
Eichrnond, then if Mrs. Arnold would agree to 
give up all allegiance to the wealth the matter 
would be dropped ; if - not, the law would then 
have to decide the case. 

Several days later the little party met at the 
lawyer’s office. On seeing that it would be 
worse than useless to commence proceedings, 
Mrs. Arnold agreed to give up all claim to the 
wealth. She knew that the old gypsy’s anger 
had been aroused, and that she was not to be 
trifled with, for fear she would proclaiiwto the 
world that Ida Arnold was a murderess. 
Haidee received a goodly reward for the serv- 
ices she had rendered, and was soon far away 
among her tribe, who hailed the return of their 
queen with great delight. Mr. Shelby also re- 
ceived a reward, and Louisa Avondale was 
again the lady of Mosslands.” 


LOUISA A VON DALE. ' 


133 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE LADY OF “ MOSSLANDS.’ 

Louisa Avondale had been kept in complete 
ignorance of the facts just related until after 
her claim was verified, when to her great 
astonishment she was informed that she was 
once more the lady of “ Mosslands.” “ Do you 
know, Uncle Robert,” said Louisa, “ it is strange 
when I think of the dislike I took for Marea, 
the very first time I ever set eyes upon iier, 
when she first went to ‘ Fairlawn ’ to teach 
Helen and Edgar. I suppose it was because 
she was destined to cross my path, but. Uncle 
Robert, I forgive her fully and freely for the 
wrong which she did me, now that the*' crooked 
has been made straight,’ and if she really was 
my father’s widow I would settle an allowance 
upon her which would be sufficient to keep 
her comfortably the rest of her lifetime, but as 
it is, I have no right to give her a copper ; her 


m 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


husband is the proper party to take care of 
her now.” , 

“ My dear niece, you are a noble girl, you 
are indeed,” said Rob proudly, “ and I am glad 
you have forgiven Mrs. Arnold for the wrong 
which she did you, for you know we must for- 
give if we wish to be forgiven.” 

“Dear Uncle Robert,” murmured the happy 
girl, “yon have been so kind to me.” But 
Louisa did not know one-half of the wrong 
whicli Marea had done her, or she could not 
have forgiven her so freely. Louisa was de- 
luged with congratulations from her vast circle 
of friends, none among them being more 
enthusiastic over her good fortune than the 
Worthingtons and Madame Chelsea. The Mon- 
tagues drove over to the “ Hall ” after they 
had heard of the joyous news, and Louisa 
caressed her dear friend Helen, and both girls 
shed tears of gratitude over the many happy 
events which seemed to be crowding the 
present. 

“Oh! my dear Louisa, I am so glad that we 
shall on^e more be neighbors, here in good old 
Virginia, where we spent our happy childhood 
days.” 

Through the influence of Robert and Paul 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


125 


Meriditli Dr. Montford received a call at Eich- 
, inond, and it was decided that “ Mosslands ” 
should be their summer residence, the drive 
from Richmond being a short one, and most 
pleasant as well as beneficial to the doctor 
every night and morning during the summer 
months, but during the winter they Avould live 
in Richmond. Helen and Louisa decided to 
have the double Avedding take place at “ Moss- 
lands,” where they had spent so many 
happy hours during their childhood days, and 
the AA'eeks preceding the time set for their wed- 
ding day Avere weeks of busy preparation for 
the two young girls. 


126 


LOUISA AVONDALU, 


CHAPTEE XV. 

THE DOUBLE WEDDING. 

At last the long-looked-for and all-impor- 
tant day arrived. “Mosslands,” lovely ‘‘Moss- 
lands,” presented a most beautiful holiday ap- 
pearance. The interior of the mansion was 
beau tif ully decorated with c h ry sa n t h e m u m s 
and autumn leaves. When the two lovely 
brides, arrayed in white satin, stood in the 
center of the grand old parlor, with the two 
handsome, gallant-looking gentlemen by their 
sides, the scene was a pretty one, which was 
rendered solemn and grand when the Rev. Mr. 
Worthington pronounced the sacred words 
w^hich bound them forever and ever as husband 
and wife “ till death do us part.” 

After the reception Robert and Helen left 
“ Mossl^ds ” on an extended Northern tour, 
but Louisa was contented to remain at her dear 
old home, from which she had so long been an 


LO UI8A A VON DA L R. 


127 


exile. Eobert and his bride did not return to 
“ Meridith Hall ” until nearly Christmas time. 
Their friends at “ Mosslands ” gave a ball in 
their honor on New Year’s night. The grand 
old ballroom at “Mosslands” was thrown open 
to the guests for the first time in twenty years. 
The gay “Four Hundred” of Eichmond soci- 
ety were in attendance, beautiful ladies and 
gallant gentlemen were there, scarcely a regret 
having been sent. All were anxious to respond 
to a summons, given out by the lovely and 
accomplished heiress of “Mosslands.” Paul 
Meriditii and liis sons, avIio were just turning 
into manhood, were there, as were also his two 
lovely daughters. Little Virginia, who was just 
sweet sixteen, captured the heart of more than 
one gallant gentleman, but Edgar Montague 
was the favored one. Edgar had loved Louisa 
Avondale in his childhood days, a love which 
he had long since gotten over, however. Little 
Virginia was almost an exact image of her 
cousin Louisa ; this was no doubt the cause 
of Edgar losing his heart once more. .Edgar 
determined to know his fate that very night, 
and on looking at his dancing programme he 
found that she was to give him the very next 
waltz. He had not long to wait until a waltz 


128 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


air struck up, and they were soon floating down 
the ballroom to the beautiful music of ‘‘My 
Queen.” 

“ Come, Virginia, we will take a walk 
through the conserv^atory,” said Edgar, after 
the waltz was ended. “They say the flowers 
there are very beautiful, and I have not been 
in there for many years.” 

Virginia consented, little thinking what was 
in store for her. Edgar pleaded so earnestly 
for her to become his wife that little Virginia 
at last consented. 

The engagement between Edgar and Vir- 
ginia was hailed with great delight by rela- 
tives on both sides of the house. It was more 
than any of them had ever hoped for, because 
Edgar had always declared that he would 
never succumb to the claims of the gentler sex 
enough to fall in love with one of them, but 
on becoming acquainted with little Virginia 
the brave resolutions which he had formed all 
crumbled away. He found that he had only 
the heart of a man, after all, but he made 
amends saying that in little Vmginia he 

had found his true ideal. 

Edrar Montague was considered the catch 

o o 

of the season, being a rising young lawyer. 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


129 


He had an office in Richmond, and had already 
distinguished himself by pleading several very 
prominent cases, so that the grand family 
name which he bore, and the talent which he 
possessed for the profession he followed, caused 
little Virginia to be looked upon as the lucky 
maiden of the season. 

Robert Meridith, Jr., declared that there 
did not seem to be much else going on in the 
Meridith family lately but marrying and giv- 
ing in marriage. He begged his sister Louisa 
to promise him that she would refuse every 
offer of marriage for at least a year from the 
night on which Virginia became engaged. 
Louisa promised that and more ; she promised 
to remain free for at least two years. This 
promise made Rob very happy, for he had a 
horror of losing his two pretty sisters at once. 
Paul, Jr., teased his elder sister at the idea of 
letting little Virginia become engaged before 
her. Gentle Louisa took thoughtless Paul’s 
teasing in very good part, declaring that she 
was in no hurry to decide her fate. 

Edgar and Virginia ever afterwai’d called 
the New Year ball the “Success Ball,” because 
it was there that they became engaged. Six 
months after the “ Success Ball,” arid in the 


130 LOUISA AVONDALE. 

lovely month of June, when the roses were 
blooming profusely, and the birds were singing 
their sweetest and most joyous notes, a very 
pretty but quiet wedding took place at “ Meri- 
dith Hall.” The wedding was made a quiet 
affair at little Virginia’s special request, only 
her nearest and dearest friends being present. 
Those near and dear friends were : Dr. and 
Mrs. Montford, Mr, and Mrs. Montague, 
Robert and Helen Meridith,Eob and Paul, Jr., 
Louisa Meridith, and last but not least, her 
father and mother. 

Robert and Paul, Sr., would not hear to 
Virginia’s being married at Richmond, where 
Paul and family had resided ever since Helen 
became mistress of the “ Hall they wished 
the ceremony to be performed at their old 
home, around which clustered so many tender 
memories of bygone years. Edgar and Vir- 
ginia spent a few happy weeks following their 
marriage at Old Point Comfort, after which 
they returned to their newly built and ele- 
gantly furnished home in Richmond, which 
Avas MivJJontague’s gift to his son on his wed- 
ding day, where they still live, enjoying a life 
of happiness and domestic tranquillity. 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


131 


CHAPTER XVI. 

LOUISA MEKIDITH A HEROINE 

Louisa Mekidith’s two years of grace were 
almost to an end ; she had certainly kept her 
word thus far to her brother Rob, though there 
were many aspirants for her heart and hand, 
and no doubt Louisa would have kept her word 
to the letter had it not been for a very strange 
occurrence. 

About the first of December, Mrs. Paul Meri- 
dith and her daughter Louisa, went up to 
Washington to visit friends, and also to do 
their Christmas shopping. While there they 
of course boarded at one of the fashionable 
hotels for which the national capital is noted, 
especially during the winter season. One 
night Louisa and Mi-s. Meridith awoke to hear 
the awful cry of fire resounding through the 
hotel. Their room was already filling with 
smoke, and for one brief minute Louisa gave 


132 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


herself up for lost ; but suddenly the courage 
for which Virginia girls are noted, returned to 
her. She knew also that she would be obliged 
to act on the strength of a very few minutes. 
She bade her mother dress hurriedly, while 
she packed their clothes into a huge bundle. 
She then took a long, strong rope from the 
bottom of the wardrobe, which she had seen 
lying in there on the day of their arrival. 
Louisa knew from the vast amount of smoke 
which was already in their room that escape 
thi’ough the corridoi’s was worse than hopeless. 
She then tied the rope to the knob of the 
Avardrobe, tied a loop in the end of it, into 
which she bade her mother place her foot, and 
in that manner the brave girl lowered her 
mother to the ground, amid the cheers of the 
people below. Of course Louisa had intended 
to draiv the rope up again and escape by the 
same means, but alas ! when Mrs. Meridith 
reached the ground, the rope slipped from the 
place to whicli Louisa had fastened it, and fell 
to the ground, leaving her four stories high in 
the burning building without means of escape. 
As poor Mrs. Meridith looked up at the white, 
terrified face of her daughter, looking down 
beseechingly upon the crowd for help, she rec- 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


133 


ognized the full extent of the awful peril in 
which Louisa was in. The poor lady begged 
piteously for some one to save her daughter’s 
life, and the vast sea of human beings who 
were looking up at the sweet-faced girl at the 
windoAV knew that some one would have to 
act in a hurry to save her, for the sides of the 
burning building were likely to cave in at almost 
any minute, yet no one seemed to take the 
perilous task upon themselves, when a strong- 
looking youth was seen crossing the roof of the 
hotel, until he stood directly over the window 
in which Louisa stood. He dropped a rope, 
which Louisa was not loathe to grasp as soon 
as she saw it ; she put her foot in the loop and 
was soon on t&Tvo/ finnct. Tlie young man 
made good his escape just as the walls of the 
burning building went in with a crash. 

This noble young man had procured a rope 
and had acted while the rest of the crowd were 
spending time idly wondering what to do. 
After he had performed the noble deed he 
thought to make' his escape without being 
known, for he did not wish to be lionized. 
But Mrs. Meridith had been too quick for him. 
She had ordered a policeman to bring him to 
her as soon as he had reached the ground. 


134 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


Isb's. Meridith and her daughter could not 
thank and bless him enough for saving Louisa’s 
life. As for Louisa, she fell violently in love 
with him as soon as she set her eyes upon him. 
He was tall and handsome, with dark-browu 
6}' es and an honest countenance, and then along 
with all tl)at he was the man who had saved 
her life. Ilad she not a right to love him, even 
if the goddess of beauty had forgotten him 
entirely ? and although she knew not who the 
handsome stranger who stood before her 
might chance to be, nor what was his avocation, 
she knew that he was her true ideal, and when 
Mrs. Meridith obtained his promise to call on 
them during the evening, Louisa felt as if they 
could at least become friends, if nothing more. 

The morning papers gave a full account 
of the terrible fire, and also the following 
article : 

“ Mrs. Paul Meridith and her daughter. Miss 
Louisa, of Richmond, Virginia, both prominent 
society people of the last-named place, were in 
the hotel, and narrowly escaped being burned 
to deatRi Miss Louisa proved herself a heroine 
by saving her mother’s life, and also all their 
personal property. She lowered her mother 
to the ground from a fourth-story window by 


lOtllSA AVON DAL 


135 


means of a rope, which unfortunately slipped 
from the place to which she had fastened it, 
leaving the young girl no means of escape. 
For a few minutes the great mass of human 
beings who stood looking at the 3^oung girl 
and listening to her cries lor help gave her up 
for lost, but suddenly a young man was seen 
crossing the roof of the building until he stood 
directly over her window. He lowered a rope, 
by which means the young girl was lowered to 
the ground in safety amid the cheers of tlie 
bystanders, the noble young man reaching the 
ground just as the sides of the burning build- 
ing caved in with a great crash. The gallant 
young hero is Mr. Louis Blondell, son of the 
late Charles Blondell, who was well-known in 
Washington society. Young Blondell gradu- 
ated with honors from West Point two yeais 
ago. While there he was noted for bravery 
and kindness of heart — two qualities which in- 
variably go hand in hand. If our country had 
many more such noble soldiers its future des- 
tiny would certainly be safe.” 

“Mamma,” said Louisa, when she had finished 
reading the article aloud to her mother, “ the 
world cannot praise him enough, for he is truly 
a hero.” 

The young soldier, true to his promise, called 
upon the ladies during the evening. Mrs. Meri- 
dith learned from him that his father and 


136 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


mother were both dead, and that his only 
relatives in all the world were several distant 
cousins in the far West. Mrs. Meridith then 
persuaded him to go down into good old Vir- 
ginia with them to spend his Christmas holi- 
days, an invitation which young Mr. Blondell 
could not find an excuse for rejecting. 

Great excitement prevailed among the Meri- 
diths at Kichmond when they heard of the 
narrow escape wdiich Mrs. Meridith and her 
daughter had made from an awful death, and 
each and every member of the family assem- 
bled at Paul Meridith’s residence to greet the 
little party from Washington on their arrival 
home. 

Louis Blondell had often heard of the good 
old Virginia hospitality, and he was really glad 
for an opportunity to partake of it, and often, 
in the bright, happy years which followed, he 
loved to think of the delightful time when he 
first became acquainted with true Southern 
hospitality. 

Christmas morning daw-ned bright and 
beautiful, and on an invitation from Eobert 
and Helen all the members of the Meridith 
family went out to “Meridith Hall” to spend, 
not only the remaining part of Christma« day, 


LOUISA AVONDALE, 


137 


but the remainder of the week, and the grand 
old-time mansion certainly never looked more 
inviting than it did on that Christmas day. 
Peace and plenty reigned supreme. Many 
tender recollections of “Christmas Tides” in 
the long ago returned to Paul and Kobert, Sr., 
on that day, and the Christmas tide of the 
present would often be remembered by the 
younger members of the family who were 
present at the happy family reunion. 

Robert and Paul, Sr., were on the alert to 
have Louis Blondell catch their sister under 
the “ Mistletoe boughs,” but Louisa was also 
on the alert, and gave the boys quite a lot of 
trouble to catch her, but at last they won the 
game. Over the doors, over the windows, and 
in every available place, hung a mistletoe 
bough. Louisa thought she was alone in the 
drawing-room, as she stood by the window 
reading a letter from one of her school friends. 
But the boys, on hearing her coming, hid be- 
hind a screen, and she never became aware of 
their presence until Louis Blondell stood by 
her side. Paul and Robert retreated, calling 
back as they left the room, ‘‘Caught under the 
Mistletoe at last.” 

“Really, Louis,” said Louisa, laughing as she 


138 


LO illSA A VOIS^DALK 


spoke, “if you hadn’t saved my life, I would 
certainl}^ box your ears well, but I can’t thank 
and bless you enough for that noble deed, for , 
you have no idea how sweet life reall}^ is until 
we are about to be robbed of it. No, Louis, 
if we only lived in the sixteenth century I 
would certainly make a knight of you by plac- 
ing a crown of laurel upon your head.” 

“ Louisa, you can knight me in the present 
age ; place the crown of laurel upon my head, 
by promising to become my wife ; that is the 
most glorious honor which you can confer 
upon me.” 

We all know the answer well enough, and 
Louisa told her soldier lover that, although she 
was veiy proud of his avocation, she would 
have consented to become his wife had he been 
only a common workman. 

“ Oh ! dear brother, Kob, if it had only been 
New Year’s day, instead of Christmas, my 
promise to you would have been kept com- 
pletely, but you will forgive me, I know you 
will, for breaking my promise just a little 
bit?” 

“You^have kept your promise, my sweet 
little sister. I am glad now that I caused you 
to make that promise, because you might have 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


130 


given yrkir heart and hand long ere this to some 
one who might have been far less worthy of 
you than noble Louis Blondell.” 

Her brother Paul declared that he knew all 
along what would happen if little Grandma 
Meridith happened to be caught under the 
“ Mistletoe bough.” 

At last the joyous Christmas holidays were 
over. Rob and Paul, Jr., I’eturned to the Uni- 
versity of Virginia, and resumed their studies, 
from which institution they graduated in the 
following June, where their father and uncle 
had graduated from, with honors, almost a 
quarter of a century before. They then pro- 
ceeded to “Meridith Hall” to be pi’esent at the 
wedding of their sister Louisa, which event 
ended the wedding ceremonies at “Meriditli 
Hall ” for many a long year. Louisa’s mar- 
riage was not a quiet affair, as Virgina’s had 
been, but an event long to be remembered by 
the society people of Richmond and vicinity. 


140 


LO U18A A VON DA LE. 


CHAPTEE XVIL 

LOUISA AVONDALE AND IDA ARNOLD. 

Many Christmas tides have come and gone, 
and as many happy family reunions had taken 
place since Louisa Meridith had been caught 
under the ‘‘Mistletoe bough many children 
now lend joy and brightness to the occasions ; 
now there are the two Montford children from 
“Mosslands,” Kobert Meridith and Louisa 
Avondale Montford ; little Louisa Meridith of 
the “ Hall,” the daughter of Rob and Helen, 
and little Helen Montague, Virginia’s child, 
and last, but not least, comes down from Wash- 
ington little seven-year-old Paul Meridith 
Blondell. 

It Avas only two weeks from Christmas, and 
each lady Avas busily preparing gifts, Avhich 
would, of^ourse, be distributed at the “ Hall ” 
on Christmas day. And one morning as Louisa 
Montford, nee AA'ondale, sat in her cosy little 
morning-room, in her uncle’s residence at Rich- 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


141 


mond, busily engaged in arranging some pretty 
trifles for a Christmas gift, a colored girl 
entered the room, saying : Please, Missa 
Montford, dey am a woman downstairs dat 
says dey am a woman dyin’, and dat she done 
can’t die widout seein’ you ; deed, missa, de 
woman in de hall down dere say it am de 
gospel truf.” 

Louisa arose and went down into the en- 
trance hall. There stood a tall, gaunt woman, 
whose clothes were all in rags, and whose 
pinched face betokened 'the most abject poverty. 

‘‘Well, madame,” said Louisa, “what can I 
do for you, or rather what is it that I can do" 
for the woman who is dying? is she in need, or 
in what way can 1 help her?” 

“ No, ma’am,” said the woman, “ you can help 
her in only one way, and that is to go to her. 
She is a strange sort of a creature, and has only 
been in Eichmond a short time, and all the rest 
of us in the tenement house know of her is that 
she is a widow, and that she is very poor, and 
is dying with consumption.” 

“I will go to her,” said Louisa; “no doubt 
she is some one who has received some charity 
from my hands, and is eccentric enough to 
think she ought to thank me for it before she 
dies.” 


142 


LO VISA A VONDALK. 


Dr. Montford happened to be at home. He 
accompanied his wife, and it was well he did, 
for Louisa did not dream who she was about 
to meet. The strange woman led Louisa and 
the doctor through dirty back streets and 
alleys, until at last they stood before a high, 
I’ickety old tenement house. They then 
climbed three flights of stairs. At last the 
woman puslied open a door, and Louisa and 
the doctor found themselves standing in the 
center of a large, comfortless room. No car- 
pet covered the floor, the windows were dirty, 
admitting veiy little sunliglit, a sickly -looking 
fire burned in the grate, and on a low bed in 
the corner of the room lay a wasted form, in 
the last stages of consumption, as both the 
doctor and Louisa knew at a glance. For a 
few minutes Louisa gazed with pity on the wan 
face, at the same time wondering where she 
had seen that face before. 

“ Louisa Avondale,” said the woman faintly,' 
“ do you not know me ?” 

“ My God ! Marea, is it really you ?” 

“ Yes, I^uisa, but my days are almost num- 
bered. Before another sun has set, I will have 
been in another world, but, Louisa, I could not 
die without seeing you. I have a dreadful con- 


LOUISA AVONDALE. 


143 


fession to make. I have wronged you more 
than you have an idea of, Louisa, yet I have a 
faint hope that you will forgive me, now tlmt 
I am dying.” 

Ida Arnold then poured the whole dreadful 
story of tire way in which she won James 
Avondale’s love, of the manner in which he 
had died, keeping nothing back from Louisa, 
and adding that her mother had long since 
died of a broken heart. 

Louisa listened to the dreadful story with 
horror shining from her great dark eyes. 

“ And your husband, where is he ?” asked 
Louisa. 

“ Oh ! the wretch, he deserted me long ago ; 
but he too is dead, having met a terrible death 
in a railway accident. Mrs. Arnold has ray 
little girl, little Annie, and may God in his 
mercy never allow her to know of her mother’s 
awful sin.” 

The dying woman tried to say something 
more, but her speech was gone. Louisa then 
whispered to her that . she forgave lier ; the 
dying woman understood her, for she opened 
her eyes once more, nodded her head and tried 
to smile. 

“She is sinking fast,” observed Dr. Mont- 


144 


LOUISA AVONDALE, 


ford, and in a few minutes Ida Arnold was no 
more. 

Louisa Montford bad her buried decently 
in a cemetery near Richmond, instead of let- 
ting tlie city autliorities place her in the pot- 
ter's field. Louisa would not hear of such a 
thing, because she once bore the name of 
Avondale. 

Louisa wished the affair to be kept a secret, 
as no good would ever come of telling it, her 
two uncles. Dr. Montford and herself being the 
only ones who ever knew how James Avon- 
dale had met his death. 

Louisa Avondale Montford still lives at lovely 
‘•'Mosslands,” surrounded by a bright family 
of dark-eyed little boys and girls, and she is still 
leading the kind of life which she begun in 
her early days, that of living only ‘‘For the 
good, the true, and the beautiful.” 


THE END. 





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